The Boy With a Fairy on His Head
by DemonicPiano
Summary: In an alternate colored world, society is very closed, arts are condemned, and rampant apathy is a part of everyday life. A young boy, Oliver Kirkland, lives a sheltered life with his mother until she is branded for murder of his father, perhaps rightfully so. He will then have to take a step into the scary world, find his place, and strive to improve society as a whole.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note- This story is a (huge) companion fic to one of my others, 'It's a Beautiful World.' In later chapters, there is a converging point between the two stories, but with different view points. HOWEVER, you do NOT need to read that fic to understand what's going on with this one._

 _This story is 2p centered, and will contain OCs with decent-sized roles. Ew, yeah, I know, OCs, but hopefully there's no 'ew' with this fic. I tried to make them various and reasonable, so take a chill pill and enjoy yourself. Also, that beautiful and A+ fic picture is from my own hand. Sorry if you're on mobile._

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Prologue

With a weary sigh, an old man settles into a bench facing a field of luxurious blue grass. Some children run to and fro, shrieking in delight at their games as their parents look on with fond gazes. The warm orange sun entices the man to close his eyes, letting the sounds of birdsong and play fill his ears. He allows his head to tip back, sleepy from the warmth, but only for a moment before he straightens up again, hastily apologizing to seemingly nobody.

A hand runs through his hair, hints of its youthful luster peeking out from the disturbance. His eyes follow paths unseen, side to side, as one circled around his head. He grins, swishing a palm as if a bug buzzed too close to his face. Some of the kids, curious, sneak closer, perhaps hoping for an elder's story. A lone old man on a park bench was always full of things to say.

His grin widens, welcoming the children's shy smiles and uncertain steps. At an inaudible prompt, the man confirms the request, wondering what kind of story that is wanted from him. The kids watch the elder listen to the breeze, peeking at him behind the gray trees. His frazzled eyebrows lift in surprise, catching something they did not.

Bashful, the old man skirts around the specific call, claiming he has so many other things he could dote on other than _that._ The children glance at one another, wondering what he was talking about, and to whom. With encouragement, the elder lets off a big sigh, as if greatly endowed with troubles, but a hint of a flattered smile peeks pass the grumpy scowl. He lets up, turning his face to the sky, losing the present with a distant gaze. The kids creep closer as he collects his thoughts, slightly startled as he exclaims, knowing exactly were to begin.


	2. Chapter 1

Many quiet evenings of the same docile event melded into one of Oliver's first bittersweet memories. The small living room was only illuminated by the red sunlight slowly sinking into the horizon. Slender arms protectively wrapped around the child's body as he rested on his mother's lap.

Her humming was soft, the only sound in the quaint space beside the sound of her nails gently scratching her son's scalp. During great moments of fleeting freedom, her muffled sounds would rise into words, her voice delicate and drifting. Oliver snuggled against his mother's chest, silently encouraging her.

Those moments were his favorite, just before the front door creaked open, only to slam shut, and his least desired times rushed in to crush the tunes. His mother's words choked off, lingering and dwindling quickly in Oliver's ears, like an insect still twitching after being squashed. The boy lightly whined, and twisted around to grope at a long pigtail sprouting from her head, wanting her to sing again.

However, the body beneath him shifted, and his mother braced him against her shoulder as she stood, facing the newcomer. She bubbled with light, careful words, "Welcome home, love." Another body lightly leaned against his back, coming close to kiss her on her cheek. Oliver turned his head, gasping at the sight of his father.

The man merely let off a low grunt, focusing his dull eyes on his son peering at him with a tiny fist in his mouth. Oliver giggled, and reached the slimy hand at him. His father's nose wrinkled in the slightest fold of disgust, and turned his attention to his wife. "Is dinner ready?"

She feverishly nodded. "It will be out of the oven in a jiffy, dear."

Oliver grunted angrily as his mother pulled him away from her bosom, and gently set him on the living room's carpet. She dared to leave him to hurry in the kitchen, attending to the dinner in the stove. He trampled after his father, who followed his wife and eyed the dish sets on the table. The man fell into a dining chair, huffing as his slender fingers drummed impatiently on the wooden surface.

The tot held out his arms, wrapping around the denim of his father's leg, and rubbed his cheek against the rough material. A large hand ran through his hair once, but that was nowhere near enough for Oliver. He latched onto the man's baggy dress shirt, stamping his feet on the tiled floor, and startled his parents with a high cry.

His mother turned around with a steaming pot, eyes wide at the commotion. She noticed her son's wiggling, and quietly giggled, setting the food on a pot holder in the middle of the table. Giving her husband a shy smile, she claimed, "Oliver has been waiting for you to come home."

Finally, the boy's father twisted in his chair, grasping Oliver's torso to pluck him off the ground. His son squealed in delight as he was taken to the air, only to be plopped into his high chair beside the man. The tot blubbered, reaching for his father, chanting, "Da, da, da," as the pot was excavated. His quest for attention was snapped off to the bowl of chicken stew set on his tray. An assuring hand patted his head, while the other put a plastic spoon within his reach.

As Oliver clumsily grasped the spoon, and stabbed the clear broth, his mother watched her husband dig into his meal, not saying anything or eating anything for herself yet. "How was your day, dear?"

" _Humph_ , same as always."

"Is the food to your tastes?"

The man irritably gnashed whatever was in his mouth. "It is fine, Marionette."

She lightly sighed, swishing at a stray strand of hair in her freckled face, and settled in her seat. As soon as she scooped a bowl for herself, Oliver fumbled with his, and tipped it over his tray. Marionette exclaimed, hurrying out of her chair as her husband eyed the broth running across the plastic. The boy laughed at his mess, pulling a broth covered finger out of his mouth with a popping sound. "Messy!"

"Yes, I know! Messy!" Marionette snatched a dish rag from the counter to dab her son's cheeks. "We will need to get this cleaned up right away!" She unlatched the high chair's tray so she could pull the boy out of it. "Do not worry about the mess, dear," she told her husband. "As soon as I bathe Oliver, I will get to it."

"Of course."

After the well needed bath, Oliver was left to his father's attendance as the man sprawled on the couch, watching the TV screen. The boy tugged on the bottom of his jeans, then grabbed at his feet, left without acknowledgement. He crept closer to his father's face, reaching out to pet his sharp features. The great beast made a weak grunt, but did not tear his eyes from the television. The tot whimpered, his breath coming out in pouty huffs, and only then, the man lifted himself to a sitting position.

"What? You want something?"

Oliver raised his arms to be picked up.

"Ah, Dad is tired." The man broke out a large yawn, and somehow, that was hilarious, and Oliver collapsed onto the carpet with mad giggling. His father rustled his hair again, settling back on the cushion.

Marionette entered from cleaning up dinner, gasping in delight as her child sprung to his feet, and ran toward her, hands stretched out. "Oh, hello!" She knelt to scoop him into her arms, and settled on the floor in front of the TV stand, since her husband took up the couch. Oliver went for one of her ginger pigtails. She gasped, and wrapped her hands around Oliver's, gently prying his fingers from her long hair. "Easy there, honey."

Not listening to his mother's warning, he took the hair into his hands once more, yanking this time. Marionette choked back a yelp, uneasily smiling as she urged the abused pigtail away from his grip. Oliver dissented, "Your hair nice!"

"I know, dear, but you have to be more gentler than that."

Taking that as a no to never touch her hair again, Oliver whined, his teal eyes welling up with tears. "Wanna hair!"

His father grumbled, "Marionette, do not let him scream like that."

"Hey, hey," Marionette tightened her embrace around her son in worry at his building sobs. "It is all right. How is this?" She asked, easing her nails along his scalp. "Mummy will play with your hair. It feels nice, does it?"

Oliver sniffled, blinking the tears away as a rhythmic massage eased his blubbering. Even his father eased, wedging an arm behind his own head with a heavy sigh. The tot's eyes fluttered against the fingers running through his hair, so much like his mother's, and slumped against her with a content smile. A light hand brushed his bangs from his forehead, and Marionette peeked at his closed eyes.

"Is it sleepy time?"

When her son slipped into a light doze, she lifted herself and him off the carpet, and glanced to the couch's occupant. "You're putting him to bed?"

"Yes, dear."

Oliver's father managed a curt nod, still glued to the TV. Marionette whisked into the old nursery, not flicking on the ceiling light so her son would remain undisturbed. She set him on his bed, and pulled the sheets over his body, not forgetting to plant a kiss to his cheek. Not finding anything more interesting outside the small bedroom, she quietly lowered herself in the rocking chair in the corner to watch her son sleep.

Only the muffled sounds of the television set permeated the walls, and Marionette sat in silence. Her eyes drooped, too, the rocking movements enticing her to sleep while she could. She drew a sharp inhale, picking up her head as if she heard someone, or something else whisper pass the soft creaks of the rocker. "Yes, he must have had an off day." After a moment, she lightly bobbed her head. "He works hard for the both of us. Even if he cannot show it, I know he cares."

Marionette rose out of the rocking chair, nearing the bed, as if she could not stay away. "It is enough, though? I do not want my baby to be like... _them,_ especially if I can help it." She sighed, tucking in a loose corner beneath Oliver's body. "I do not want him to be afraid of being happy." Something amused a short, quiet laugh from her. "Of course, it _is_ a mother's duty to worry."

Heavy footsteps made the floorboards creak, and she lifted her gaze to the doorway, where her husband passed, pausing to tilt his head. "Is he asleep?"

"Yes, dear."

"Who were you talking to?"

Marionette bit her lip so she would not smile nervously. "Anyone who was listening."

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 _Author's Note- Oliver= 2p!England. Marionette= 2p!nyo!England. Oliver's dad= some dude lol._


	3. Chapter 2

The first time Oliver started to notice them, was around his fifth year. His mother was humming with her cleaning, as always whenever his father worked. The broom in Marionette's hands swished against the kitchen floor in rhythm of her songs. Oliver's eyes followed the motion, back and forth, distracting him from the children's program on the television screen.

Suddenly, the movements froze as his mother's gaze fixed on a certain spot on the tiles. She glanced to her son watching the area, then back to the ground again. Her foot lifted, preparing to stomp on whatever was on the ground. Oliver leaped from the couch, crying, "Mummy, no!" She looked at him in surprise as he bustled through the doorway, pausing to watch a black fuzz ball crawl along the floor. "Do not step on it!"

He knelt down, cupped his hands around the dark creature, and smiled at his catch. Marionette crouched to investigate. Oliver revealed a chittering insect-like creature wiggling in his palms. It flicked its whip-like tail, lightly hissing. "Okay, dear, we need to let it outside," she said almost urgently, pushing open the closest window. "Do not let it too close to your face."

Oliver held the creature away from himself, and approached the window with his arms straight out. "What happens if it gets close?"

Marionette coaxed the fuzz ball from her son's hands, and it floated in the air uncertainly. She swished at it, and closed the window as soon as the thing was out of her house. "It might crawl up your nose, and not want to get out!"

The boy giggled, "No, it will not, Mummy!"

She playfully poked his nose. "It was a coal tar. If you see anymore of them, make sure to hold your breath until you can get away."

"Daddy brings them home with him sometimes."

"Sometimes," Marionette agreed, patting down some of her child's permanent bedhead. "They must like the way he smells."

Oliver stuck his tongue out. "Yucky!"

"Yes," his mother furrowed her thin eyebrows, looking worried. "Yucky is right!"

After seeing his first strange creature, Oliver became more aware of his surroundings over the years. The mere whispers in the breeze were not so, and otherworldly beings would leave a glittering mark against things they touched. The growing boy was charmed by the glimpses, and would call back to them, sharing his own stories. It was much to his father's dismay that he caught Marionette giggling at nothing, let alone his son, too.

"Now you are whispering to thin air like your mother," the man said. Oliver did not like the vaguely frightened look in his father's eyes.

"I am not talking to air," the boy lightly dissented. "I am talking to the fairies!"

"Oliver, you are almost eight now. You should move on from your imaginary friends to real ones. You go to the park a lot with Mum, right?"

His son stuck his lower lip out, nodding.

"There are plenty of other children there to play with."

"But they are too rough!"

The man smothered his hand on his son's hair. "Then get rough back with them. Teach them they will not best a Kirkland with foul play."

The next time Marionette took him to the town's central field where all the other parents took their kids to run off their pent up energy, Oliver did not stay with his mother on the patterned quilt where they usually relaxed in the sun. Instead, he declared, "I am going to play with the other kids!"

Marionette looked taken back. "Are you sure you do not want to stay with your mum, while the sun is out from the clouds?"

"Dad said I should play with them, though."

"Oh, Daddy said that?" She put on a smile for her son. "All right, dear. Mummy will be right here when you are done. Be careful..."

Oliver spun around, marching across the field, and glanced at the other children spar or chase one another as their parents observed closely from beneath the trees. He caught a pair of boys toss a small ball back and forth, and steered to their direction. They stopped, pivoting their heads at his approach. "H-Hello."

"Hey," the taller one made a snorting noise. "Did your mum dress you like that?"

The boy glanced down to his short sleeve sweater vest and shorts. "Yes, she did," Oliver said, confused. "She said I look pretty."

The pair slapped their hands to their mouths, chortling. The second child noted, "You are pretty. Pretty stupid." That was hilarious with both of them laughing obnoxiously, but Oliver did not smile even once. He turned away, hurrying from their pointing and snickering with reddening ears. Eventually, an adult hollered at them for making a ruckus, and they almost immediately silenced. If they did not want him to play with them, he wondered why they did not say so.

A tiny figure flew by his face, and he gasped, startled, and startling the fairy. She spun around mid-air, surprised to see the boy staring steadily at her. "Hey."

"Hey," Oliver said.

"Some of these children are really mean. It's just the way their parents raise them, but not all of them are like that." The fairy pointed a hand toward the other end of the field. "There is a small group of other kids that may want you to join them."

The boy smiled, nodding eagerly. "Thank you!" He hurried to where the fairy told him to go, looking around the lot for any potential playmates. Beneath the rows of trees surrounding the field, a little girl bounced up and down, shouting at him.

"Hey! Hey!"

"Who? Me?"

She stopped, appraising him for a moment. "Yes, you!"

Oliver approached her warily, glancing around the tree trunks for others. The short girl grabbed his hand, and lead him to another pair of boys. "Hey!" She barked at them. "I found someone else to join us!"

"H-hello!"

The boy with limp hair covering one eye stared curiously. "Great. We have even teams now."

The other, older one was more suspicious. "Who are you?"

"I am Oliver!"

The eldest barked at the girl, "What, you grabbed a random kid and decided that he was good enough?"

"Does it matter?" The other boy spoke up. "As long as he can run, he can play with us."

A few raspberries were blown, until the little girl wailed, and stomped both feet on the ground. The pair broke out of their argument to gawk at her. "Knock it off! Are we playing or not?!"

"Y-yeah, I guess so," the older one grimaced, looking at Oliver. "You know how to play Chase?"

"Chase!" The shorter boy cheered, bouncing up and down. The other put a firm hand on his shoulder to stop the racket.

"Chase?" Oliver tipped his head. "Does it have to do with chasing somebody?"

The trio shared a devious look. The oldest one continued, "Whoever is youngest has to be the chaser first. How old are you?"

"My eighth birthday was two months ago, in the Spring."

The oldest boy turned to the other child, lightly shoving him. "That means you're it!"

"Aw, man! I am always the chaser! Why can't someone else go first?"

"Did I _not_ say the youngest is the chaser? You know this. If you do not want to be it, either catch somebody, or don't play." Before he could retaliate, the tallest child darted away.

The little girl gasped, flapping her hands, but keeping quiet. "Run!" She warned Oliver in an excited whisper, "Don't let him touch you, or you'll have to chase us!"

Oliver scrambled away from the other boy's outstretched hands. The small child charged after him with a frighteningly serious expression. "Eek!"

After a bout of darting around, disturbing the blue grass, the other children grew increasingly uncertain. Oliver pelted by them, flapping his hands, and squealing with the thrill of the chase. The girl had tried to tell him to be quiet, or else the adults would come over and yell at them, but his laughter and heavy breaths were too loud in his own ears. Just as he flung himself from his hiding spot behind a tree, the older boy intercepted his path.

Both children collided into one another, and Oliver's much bonier frame bounced off of the other's, causing him to tumble onto the cyan grass. He landed roughly on his side, shaken, but not hurt. Before he could get up, and brush himself off, the eldest pinned him to the ground by his shoulders. Letting out a flurry of giggles, Oliver smacked at the other boy's chest. "You caught me!" He claimed, "I guess it is time for me to be the chaser!" However, his captor was not laughing at all. "I-is something wrong?"

"Yeah," the boy snapped, glaring down at him with a nasty scowl. "You. What are you doing, making stupid noises like that? Do you want the adults to come over and yell at us?!"

As Oliver started to wiggle around, not enjoying the unfriendly closeness, the other children scurried to them, and stopped a few meters away. They seemed worried, but did not say anything, watching with wide eyes. "What do you mean? I am not doing anything bad!"

"That!" The other child grabbed Oliver's jaw. "Smiling, laughing, being noisy...just like a crazy person! I knew it! I knew you looked weird, it's because you are!"

Oliver sharply inhaled, his eyes stinging from tears at the fierce expression. "Let me go!"

The boy pinched his face more forcibly, eliciting more squeaks of dissent from the body beneath him. He angrily whispered, "Be quiet, you weirdo!"

"That hurts! Stop it! You are mean! Meanie!" Not knowing how else to get his captor off of him, Oliver started to flail his arms, grabbing at the other boy's ears. Both started yelling, until he had enough, ripping himself from the supposed weirdo with his hands clamped on his ears.

"We're done playing with you. Freak!" The boy spun around to stomp away. The others gave Oliver last looks of vague loss, before quickly following the eldest. Oliver sat up, rubbing his lower cheeks where the harsh presence of the boy's grimy fingers sank into his skin. The stinging in his eyes intensified, and when he tried squeezing them shut, tears leaked out. He groped the nearest tree, using it to get himself to his feet, and after his mother as soon as possible.

Marionette cried in horror, springing from the quilt she rested on when her son approached, battered, dirty, and bawling. "Oliver! Oliver, what happened, darling?" She wrapped her arms around the boy, rubbing his back in comfort. "Shh, it is all right now. You are with Mummy."

"Those k-kids... _hic!_ Are meanies!"

His mother gasped, "They are? Did they hurt you?"

"T-they yelled at me, a-and one of them p-pushed me to the ground!"

"Oh, you poor thing." Marionette _tisk_ ed, pulling away to wipe at a damp, grass smeared cheek. "Here, let us go home, and get you cleaned up. Then we will have some tea. Does that sound good?"

Oliver sniffled, "I do not like playing with the other children, Mummy."

"That is all right. Do not fret, dear. Making friends takes a while, but it is very worth it in the end."

The boy declared, "I will make friends with the fairies!"

Marionette giggled. "That will be our little secret, okay?"

Oliver smiled through his tears, and then nodded.

Things were just starting to look better. He was going to get a nice, warm bath, and a hot cup of his favorite drink, specially brewed by his mother. However, the momentary optimism flattened when the pair walked into the front door of their house, and Oliver's father was sprawled on the couch, staring at the was shocked at the unkempt out look of her husband. "Hello, darling," she began slowly. "You are home early."

A grunt, and he dug at the whiskers peeking out of his pointed jaw. "That is what happens if you are fired, Marionette."

Oliver glanced between his parents, confused why his mother gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth. "Mummy, what does it mean to be fired?"

"Honey, why? Did they..." she trailed off as her husband hiccupped, his head slumping to the side. "Are you...drunk?"

"Dammit, Marionette, you just walked in the door and you are already nagging me."

"What have you done? Did you go to work like that?! This is just so sudden-"

His father ripped himself from the sofa, almost losing his balance as he stood over them. "I told you to leave the fuck alone!"

Marionette flinched as if she expected to be physically scolded. Oliver squeaked, scared from the volume of his father's roar, and latched onto the dress strings running up his mother's back. The man noticed this, and backed away with his expression softening to a disgusted look. It was questionable whether he was appalled by his family, himself or both. His wife twisted to set a hand on their son's head, her eyebrows quivering from the tension of keeping her face undaunted. "How about that bath, honey?"

Oliver glanced up to his father, but the man had turned away from them, glaring at the carpet. "Okay, Mummy."

His mother urged him into the bathroom, turning on the water, and plugged the drain. "Come on, sweetie. Get those soiled clothes off."

As the boy struggled with his sweater vest, he asked, "Mum, what does fuck mean?"

Marionette drew a sharp breath, turning on him. She gave his ear a hard yank, earning a yelp of pain. She let go to put her hands on her hips, glaring at her son with a disapproving glare. "I do not want to hear such language from you again, young man. That is a filthy word! Gentlemen do not speak like that!"

Oliver wondered how words could be filthy, but he did not question it. He nodded, lower lip stuck out in a pouting position as he rubbed his ear. "How come you do not pull Daddy's ears when he says things like that?"

"I..." Marionette was lost for words for a moment. She cleared her throat, lightly pushing the hair covering her son's eyebrows, and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. "Your father...has done something, and made some decisions that I do not want you to follow. That starts with speaking so foul."

"Okay, Mummy." Oliver fiddled with his hands, forgetting the pulling sensation in his ear. "Can we have sandwiches after this?"

"We can have anything you want, dear."


	4. Chapter 3

One morning, Oliver's eyes fluttered open to see his bedroom illuminated with a soothing, glittery light, amplified from his curtains drawn closed. The boy sat up, startling the small creatures prancing on his mattress. Some of the fairies gossiping at the edge of his bed gasped, and flew to his lap. The boy exclaimed, "What is this about?!"

"Shh!" One of the purple clad fairies put a finger to her lips. "Not so loud! You might get the mean man in here with all that noise!"

"Mean man?" Oliver's voice dropped, "My father?" They nodded, looking anxious. "He is not mean."

"He tells you all those horrible things!"

"Like what?!"

Another fairy answered, "He yells at you for laughing so much, and crying when you are sad. It's like he does not want you to express emotions."

Oliver pinched his bed sheets, frowning at the cloth. "Everyone is like that. They do not like being happy, or at least, they act like it. I think Dad wants me to fit in, so they will not yell at me like he does."

"That is awful!" The first fairy said. "If you suppressed yourself so much, you wouldn't be able to talk to us! Why do you think nobody else can see us?"

"Really?" Oliver gasped. It was no longer a wonder why everyone, including his father gave him bizarre looks for talking to seemingly thin air. He tugged his cover to his face, flushing in collective embarrassment. "That _is_ awful. Why would nobody want to talk to you?"

"I know! I ask myself that all the time!"

The other fairy put in, "You are a bit erratic, Lila."

"Who says? Do they want to pick a fight?!"

"Yeah, yeah. We did not come here to talk people down-"

The bedroom door knob jostled before the door swung open. Marionette peeked in with a soft beckoning to her son, but cut off as she was surprised by the small specks of light floating around Oliver's room. "What do we have here! I haven't seen you around before!"

"Hello, Miss Marionette!" The fairies called as they exchanged a devious glance with each other. "Word got around that there's a whole family that can see us! So, we figured we'd check things out!"

"We can," Marionette smiled to her son, who gazed at the small creatures in wonder. "I'm sure Oliver will appreciate the company. Honey, it is time for you to get out of bed. I am making scones, and would like for you to help me."

Oliver beamed, already appreciating the new presence, and threw back the covers. The fairies darted away in time before the blanket could encase them in cloth doom. The boy cheered, "Scones!"

Marionette giggled, "All right, dear, make sure you get dressed first."

One of the fairies called, "We'll be outside if you want to play!"

Once their favorite breakfast was on the table, complimented with their obligatory cups of tea, his mother spent most of the time watching her child munch on most of the pastries with a fond smile on her face. She reached a hand out, running her fingers through his hair, and laughed as he cracked his own jam covered grin. "Are you going to eat, Mum?"

"Oh, yes," Marionette grabbed a round scone and nibbled the outside. "Would you like to go to the park today, dear?"

After a moment of consideration, Oliver shook his head. "I want to go outside and play with my friends in the trees."

"Make sure they treat you right!"

The boy snickered, "Of course, Mum." Things were peaceful until he set down his half eaten scone, and suddenly asked, "How come Dad is not home much anymore?"

Marionette's mouth pulled down. She batted her eyes, "Daddy has a lot of work to do, sweetie. He is getting us money."

"He always spends the money, though!"

"Ah, yes...but he works for it."

Oliver lightly pushed his plate from himself. She has been saying that nonsense for years now. Once he found out what 'firing' meant a couple of years back, his father seemed to get fired more times than the boy could keep track. He thought getting fired was some sort of celebration, as every time it happened, the man would come home with a rank smell wafting from his breath to matched his staggered steps. Whenever Oliver asked, Marionette would say he went to the bar to drink. He wondered if too much water could do that to a person.

Marionette lifted from her seat to wound her arms around her son. "You will be a lovely young man, to every living thing, will you, Oliver?" She murmured, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, "Be gentle and kind."

"What if someone makes me mad?"

"You know what to do," Marionette gave his ear a very gentle tug, and he squeaked with laughter, clamping his hand over the affected area.

"I am going to go outside, Mum."

"Okay, dear, but come right inside if it starts raining."

"It always rains," the boy grumbled, slipping out of his seat. Even the clouds were afraid to smile. When he hopped down the back steps, one of the fairies from his bedroom jumped from the grass to excitedly greet him.

"Hey, Oliver!"

"Hello. Lila, is it?"

"Yep!" The fairy, Lila, buzzed around his head. "What's blooming? You look so grumpy!"

"I-I am not grumpy!"

"You look like it!"

The boy hesitated with a nervous glance around the yard.

"You can tell me! Nobody has to know!"

"Well...all right." It would be nice to actually vent to somebody that wanted to talk to him. "I wish Mum and Dad would agree for once. I never see them hug each other like they used to. All they do is argue, or at least Dad does, and Mum just stands there without saying anything. It makes me want to cry when she does."

"Aw, Oliver!" The fairy settled on the top of his head, and gripped his hair so she would not get flung off. "Careful! I'm up here!"

The boy approached the small clump of trees littering his back yard, and circled around the gray trunks for idle movement. "Do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"What? No! Why would you ask that? Did your dad say that to you?"

"W-well, I think he is afraid that I am not going to be like the other kids, but I do not want to be like the other kids! They will not let themselves have fun, and they also yell at me for laughing when I enjoy myself. I do not understand it at all, and I believe I do not want to, if that means I can be happy."

"It has been that way for a long time," the fairy murmured. "Everyone stops everyone else from expressing their feelings, even in art and literature. I think they do not know why anymore. It is just the way things are."

"That is rubbish," Oliver started to kick one of the tree trunks with the toes of his shoe. "Absolute rubbish!"

Lila looked up at a cracking sound, and cried out, "Watch out!" She was quick enough to shoot away, but Oliver yelped as a twig flew down, and hit him on the head. "Yikes! You all right?"

Oliver yanked the stick from his hair, tossing it to the ground. "It...it was my fault." He gave the tree a guilty look. "Pardon me." The boy turned away, now thoughtfully running his hand over the hit area. "What if..."

"What if what?" Lila asked enthusiastically.

"What if I could show others to not be afraid? I can tell them that it does not hurt to smile."

"If you do it too long, it might make your cheeks stiff." Both tittered from the fairy's joke, but she cut off to a sharp breath, and turned in the direction of the house. "Your father is home."

"So soon?" Oliver sighed, "He was probably fired. That means he is going to yell at Mum again."

"Why yell at Marionette if he was the fired one?"

"Exactly!" The boy mashed his eyebrows together. "I am going inside now."

"Um, okay. Is it all right if I stay out here?"

"Huh? How come?"

"Ah, um...Honestly, I really don't want to get in the middle of that stuff."

Oliver clenched his jaw. "Yes, now you know how I feel."

"I'll be around, though! We'll talk then, okay?"

He brightened a bit at that. "Of course. Later."

The fairy and Oliver went in opposite directions. He threw open the back door, and stepped inside his house, wary at its silence. The boy slowly closed the door, so it would not make any noise, and crept closer to the kitchen. The table was clean from their late breakfast, but Marionette still sat in her chair, staring at the sheen surface. Oliver neared his mother, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She gasped, twisting around in her chair with wide, watery eyes. "Oh, Oliver, you gave me a fright."

"Sorry, Mum. Is Dad here?"

Marionette clamped her mouth shut, and curtly nodded. Before her son could ask anything else, her husband came from the hallway, and stopped as soon as he saw their child. Oliver froze as his narrowed gaze landed on him, and stared at his father with wide eyes. "Oliver," the man began in a gruff tone, "come with me."

"W-what? Where?"

His mother shot from her seat, and pulled him into a sideways embrace. "Where are you taking him?"

"Out in the real world, Marionette. He needs to see it for himself. Oliver, let's go."

"Um...a-all right." The boy gave his mother a bewildered look, but tugged away from her stare of horror. As long as his father was not yelling at her, Oliver was happy with him. He uncertainly padded over to the man, and jumped when he ruffled his hair.

"Oliver," Marionette called out. They turned to face her bunching her apron in her fists. "I..." She seemed to struggle with words as she glanced between her family. "Ahem, be safe honey. Do not be out too long."

"Come on," his father urged him out the door.

"Where are we going?"

His father's lips turned up in the slightest way. Oliver would have easily missed it if he was not staring with a nervous fix. "We go wherever the road takes us."

Oliver glanced down the main street. "It only goes two ways."

The man smothered his hair again in an affectionate gesture. "Have you been to a bar? Bar food is the best around."

"Oh, I do not know, Pa. Mum says bad things happen in bars."

"She says bad things happen everywhere. That is all a part of growing up. Besides, you need some meat on your bones. That is why you are cold and sickly all the time. Don't you want to be big and strong?"

"Like you!" Oliver offered.

His father nodded. "Of course. She does not feed you nearly enough. A growing man needs a lot in his belly."

The boy giggled, but was interrupted by his father tapping his mouth with a hand, condemning the sounds. Oliver decided to bite the inside of his cheek, like the man told him to whenever he wanted to make 'those noises.' He noticed anybody passing them on the walkways did not stare at him with horrid stares if he did not smile like he usually did.

"Here we are," Oliver's father gestured limply at a small building across the street. He waited for a car to pass before crossing, with the boy bustling closely behind. The building was bland, fitting with its neighbors, but the only thing giving the bar away was a neon circle with a palm tree dropping bottles from its blue leaves.

The front glass doors opened, and the scent from inside smacked Oliver in disgusting wafts. He could not imaging having an appetite in such a foul scented environment. The boy opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but his father ushered him down a hall with a hand on his back. As soon as the corridor ended, a long rectangular room greeted them as the source of the smells.

Buff, shaggy men that passed as homeless people whooped from the collection of booths and rickety tables, causing him to shrink against his father. Even at noon time, the audio of the televisions overlooking the sets was not heard from the clinking of glasses and merrymaking. A couple of the scary men rose to their feet, calling out loud greetings to Oliver's father. Oliver scurried to the other side of him, away from the approaching beasts. He caught the smell of smoke and the absence of hygiene.

The fatter one gaffed, "Oi, look at Mr. Kirkland. Fancy meetin' you here!" Oliver's dad made a grumble of amusement, and both patted one another's backs.

The other stranger gasped, exposing gaps in his mouth where teeth should be. "You hiding something from us?"

Oliver's father set a hand on his son's back, and brought the boy to stand in front of him. Oliver skirted back to his initial position, but his father clamped his hands on his shoulders, keeping him rooted, out on display for the other men. "My son."

Oliver glanced up, looking at his father in surprise. He wished he sounded as proud as that all the time. The bar frequenters drew closer, wearing dazzled expressions on their ugly faces, as if they were examining a precious gem. The boy did his best to not crinkle his nose from their smells and proximity. The fat man exclaimed, "Good grief! He is the spitting image of that lass of yours!"

"'cept he has your eyebrows, Mister Kirkland!"

Oliver clamped a hand over his forehead.

"As if she shot him right out, huh?"

Mr. Kirkland did not laugh.

"Little one," the lean man bent toward Oliver, cooing, "What is your name?"

The boy felt the arid breath cling to his soul. "I do not want to tell you."

"Haw, haw!" Apparently, his response was hilarious.

"Oliver," his father growled, his hands giving the boy's bony shoulders a squeeze. "His name is Oliver."

"He _is_ Marionette in the flesh, I see!" The fat guy rubbed his bald head, and calmed a bit with a shaky sigh. "How 'bout we hit the bar?"

Oliver grunted in light dissent as his father guided him to the counter. He made sure to sit on the stool furthest from the creepy pair, grateful for his dad to pose as a barrier. "What do you want to drink, son?"

The boy squawked, "Not the alcohol! It smells bad!"

The lean man hooted, "It'll make 'im grow up faster!"

Mr. Kirkland ignored them, staring at his son. "I expect you to choose what is appropriate."

The bartender tossed them a blank look from drying a glass. "I am not having a child stagger around my bar."

Oliver decided on a strawberry milkshake, pleasing his father. He liked it when his dad almost smiled. He wanted him to do it more. However, after fidgeting and sipping on his third milkshake for over an hour, the boy grew more anxious as the bar filled closer to Happy Hour. His father left him to 'Watch their drinks' as he engaged in a game of pool with his two companions. The bartender kept glancing at the child, always grimacing.

He sighed, tossing his head over his shoulder to look around the bar. Some of the men and women kept staring right back, and he did not feel happy for once at their sly grins. Oliver started to feel queasy from drinking too many milkshakes, mixed with the disgusting smells of alcohol and sweat. "I want to go home," he whimpered to himself. "The real world is awful." He wanted to be in his mother's company, away from the noise, and listen to one of her stories, or be wrapped in the warmth of their joined baking.

His father eased up, sometimes letting out quips of short chuckles, and his eyes shone brighter than usual as he gave his pool stick a happy wag. His pals howled, rosy cheeked, and actually laughing. Oliver stared at their messy smiles. Perhaps this alcohol was not such a bad thing. Mr. Kirkland was a nasty man without it, anyway.

The fat man caught Oliver's eye, and threw his head back in a wild laugh. He patted his father's back before leaning his pool stick against the wall, and approached the bar. Oliver gripped his cold milkshake glass a bit tighter as the stranger snatched his own mug, raising it to the boy, and winked before chugging it. "Pretty good stuff. You sure you don't want any, little one?"

"Um, no," Oliver leaned away. "I am sure."

"What, your Mum don't let you have fun?" His nearly non-existent eyebrows wiggled in an odd dance as he crept closer. "You are here to do that!"

"I get it. Now, leave me alone, please."

"Not until you tried a little bit o' this!" The fat man leaned against him, and placed a hand on his back as he tipped a lot of his beer into whatever was left of Oliver's milkshake. Oliver drew a sharp breath between his teeth, tensing against the contact. "There we go! Try it!"

"I told you to go away."

"Don't be like that," the man told him, and the hand creeping across his back to give the boy's side a healthy squeeze.

Mr. Kirkland called, "Hey, hey, come on. It's your turn."

Oliver's eyes stung, and he could feel his throat thickening as his father's companion waved at him with one hand. The other, hidden, gave the boy's side another rough pinch. "In a minute, in a minute."

Oliver snatched his ruined milkshake, and spun around, slamming the glass with as much force he could muster against the bald man's head. Both recoiled as the shards cut into their skin, but for his own hand, it was worth the way the stranger stumbled away, eyes bulged out like eggs as he clawed at the pieces embedded into his scalp. The bartender yelled at the mess, loud against the silence that swept over the bar at the sound of glass shattering.

His father rushed over from the pool table, gawking at the rain of lavender droplets sliding down his companion's head. He landed his horrified gaze on Oliver, who lightly snorted, "I told him to let me alone, and he did not."

The lean man hurried to his pal's side, trying to lamely soothe the quick, panicked gasps from the glass sticking from the fat guy's head. He guided him out the bar, leaving Mr. Kirkland to snap out of his spacing. "We need to leave. Come on," he took a hold of Oliver's wrist, mindful of his bleeding cut, and towed his son outside. They went in the opposite direction than the staggering duo.

Halfway home, Mr. Kirkland pulled Oliver to the side of the walkway, examining the cut. He pinched the gash, causing the boy to hiss and flinch from the painful throbbing onto his skin. "Ah, what are we to do? Your Mum will lose a gasket if she saw this."

"Ow, Dad, that hurts!" Oliver yanked, able to escape his father's clutches from the sudden maneuver. "She is going to see it, anyway."

His father huffed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Let's get home before it gets infected."

The dry blood was becoming more uncomfortable rather than achy. Oliver held his hand out from himself so none of the red would drip onto his clothes. He stretched his arm as if advertising it, and it was easily spotted by his mother before she could greet her family from their short lived outing. Marionette's gaze zoned on the bloody gash, and her husband stepped away from their son, digging in the side of his own head as she gasped in horror.

"Oliver! Your hand! What happened?! You poor boy," she _tisk_ ed, sending a disgusted look to the man. He kept his stare to the wall. "Come to the kitchen, and we can get that cleaned right up."

"Okay, Mum."

"Oliver," she said more quietly, pressing protectively closer as the boy stuck his hand under the sink's current. "What happened?"

"I cut myself on glass."

"What were you doing around glass?"

"I..." Oliver frowned, wincing as his mother pulled his arm from the water, and dabbed at the cut with a dishcloth.

"Tell me, Oliver."

"Some wanker was creeping on me, and would not leave me alone until I threw my milkshake on his head!"

"Some wan...where did you hear such a word from?"

"Dad. Is it another foul word?"

Marionette nodded, kneeling to reach under the kitchen sink. "Of course. He took you to the bar? Not the park, or to get ice cream?"

"Mum, it is a tad too cold to get ice cream."

His mother straightened with a small medical kit, and mustered a small smile. Her fingers danced through Oliver's hair, much more welcomed than his father's strong smothers. "If you do not want to do something, or go somewhere, do not be afraid to let people know how you feel. Be adamant. Now, give me your hand, so we can patch it up."


	5. Chapter 4

"He is fine."

"Fine? You call a deep gash in his hand fine?"

Oliver's parents were kind enough to approach the tense subject when he was asleep, or when they thought he was asleep. His mother's voice was just loud enough, sharpened with anger, to come beneath his closed bedroom door. He sat in his bed, not laying, and stared at his feet idly shake back and forth. It would have been nice for the little light creatures, or even the fairy Lila to keep him company, but the boy believed they were probably doing better things than worrying about him.

"What if he needed stitches? Do you think we have enough insurance to cover the doctor's bill?" Marionette went on without waiting for a reply, "No, we do not. Do you know why? You cannot keep a steady income because of your irresponsibility."

"Oh? My irresponsibility? Once you learn how to raise a child right, talk to me about irresponsibility."

His mother let a short, almost mad laugh. "You think letting our son be molested by creeps is raising him right? All because he 'needs' to be exposed to the real world, since there is something wrong with him?"

"You are condemning him to a life of suffering. Is that what you really want for him?"

"The only way he will truly be suffering is if he believes the only way to be happy is to act like he is not. I will not let it happen if I can help it."

Mr. Kirkland spat, "You are going to ruin him!"

"Is that any way to talk about your son?" Marionette's voice wavered, as if she were going to collapse to tears. "You should be happy however Oliver turns out to be like."

"I should be happy with everybody else hating him?"

"You are implying no one will love him for being himself. That will not happen, because _I_ love him."

"Marionette," his father hissed through gnashed teeth. "Listen to me."

Their voices dropped to near growls, so Oliver slipped from his bed, sneaking to his door on his tiptoes.

"No. I have listened to you. For thirteen years, and look where it gotten us."

"What do you mean where it gotten us?! You act like we are doomed!"

"Are we?" His mother took a shaky breath, trying to level herself. "Or are you going to clean yourself up, get a stable job, and stop drinking?"

Mr. Kirkland sneered, "What, you do not trust me to do that?"

"I did." Marionette admitted. "Time after time, I held my tongue, waiting for you to come around. Yet, you never did. I gave you my love and a child, wanting nothing more than you to fully love me back. You repay your family by wasting away with drink in your stomach, while we wait clueless to where you go on late nights. Perhaps you have left without a word, without a method of income to support your family you wanted so bad!"

"Keep quiet, Marionette," Mr. Kirkland barked. "Our son is sleeping!"

Oliver slumped his head against the door. No, he was not.

"Do not pretend you care now," Marionette weakly warned. "I went countless of days wondering if you would ever return. I wondered what I would do, if you did not. I have been thinking. A lot." She ignored her husband's drawn out groan of annoyance. "I think...we do not need...someone like you."

"Marionette, knock it off."

"No. If you are not going to act like a father and husband, then leave us alone. You are no good to us, to me, your wife, by allowing yourself to become like this."

"Stop saying those things."

"Are _you_ going to stop?" There was a moment of silence. Marionette took it as a no. "Then leave."

Her husband scoffed, "You want me to leave?"

"Are you going to heed to my desires for once?"

"You want me to leave," he repeated in disbelief.

"Until you can be a proper father figure, stay away from Oliver and me. I can take care of him myself. Not having you around would be better for him, than having you still around, doing what you know best."

Mr. Kirkland angrily stammered incoherently, until a final growl announced his lost. "Fine. You want me to leave? Then I will. I am not going to stay around to watch you brainwash our son."

A flurry of footsteps headed away, and the front door opened, slamming with a heavy vibration to the house's foundation. Oliver stayed braced against his bedroom wall, shallowly breathing to listen to the silence. His mother let out a long, pained whine from her throat. "N-no. Please, come back."

Oliver slowly opened his door, peeking out into the hallway where he could see his mother sink to the living room's carpet, cradling her hands to her chest. The boy threw open the door all the way, and pattered into the narrow corridor. "Mum?" She kept weeping, not hearing her son's call. He walked up to her, watching her quivering back for a moment of realization. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her stomach from behind, and rested his cheek against her shoulder.

Marionette gasped, glancing in her son's direction. "O-Oliver!" She vigorously scrubbed at her eyes, and rose to her feet. "You should be in bed now, honey!" Oliver backed away to look at her blotched face with a gaze of wonder. His mother loved him very much. He hugged her again, which was apparently surprising.

"It is okay, Mum. You always tell me it is okay to cry when you have to."

His mother sniffled loudly, soothing his bedhead with gentle pets. She did not say anything, but craned her neck to kiss the top of his head, and squeezed her eyes shut. Oliver continued, "Does this mean I can laugh when I want to?"

More tears streamed down Marionette's freckled cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, you can always do that."

The peace was unsettling at first. However, as Marionette stepped around her boundaries, filling the house with the undaunted sounds of her singing whenever she could, Oliver realized the absence of his father was worth the loss as peace filled its void. At times, the boy would be lured into the music, gradually adding is light voice with hers. Both cut off, startled, and glanced at one another. Then, a shared smile would entice the singing to resume in a fleeting march.

The few times Marionette was not singing was included when she was hunched over the kitchen table, scribbling letters and talking on the house phone. She would discuss confusing, secretive things, quieting when Oliver came by. Her conversations could last for hours, and the telephone made annoying idle noises as her calls were transferred. When she was finished with whoever she called, his mother would sigh, and rest her head on the table.

Oliver asked, "Are you sick, Mum?"

His mother picked up her head, and smiled. "No, dear. It is just that adult responsibilities can be tiring!"

"How about some tea?" The boy offered, and it greatly pleased Marionette.

It only took a week for them to become friendly with the absence after Mister Kirkland stormed out of their lives. Even the fairies and small otherworldly creatures dared to come inside without the malevolence plaguing the house. He may have been loved, but Mr. Kirkland was not a likable man. Time pushed a little further, and the peace was suddenly destroyed, a fragile webbing ripped by a careless hand. The front door cracked open, causing Oliver and Marionette's heads to lift from their lunches, and look at one another in confusion. It flew into the wall, and they simultaneously jumped out of their seats, rushing to the doorway to peer into the living room. The fairies gasped, and vanished from the man looming in the entrance.

Mr. Kirkland stared at his family, dull hazel eyes flickering from his wife to his son. His clothes were unclean, and his whiskers dotting his jaw and chin were coming in thick and patchy. Oliver pressed closer to his mother, frightened at his unkempt look. Marionette worryingly patted his head. "Oliver, please, go outside and play. Use the rear door."

"No," his father growled.

Marionette squared her shoulders, attempting to be civil. "Have you come back to your family?"

"I have thought a lot, too, Marionette." Mr. Kirkland seethed. "I did not come back for your sake. I have come back for Oliver's."

"Um...a-all right," Marionette said uncertainly. She glanced down to her son, who stared at his father's hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"No, you do not understand. I have come back for Oliver."

His wife snapped her head up, eyes widening in disbelief. "W-what? No!"

"I am not going to let him be brainwashed."

"This again!" Marionette sputtered, "Oliver, go outside. Now."

Oliver glanced between his father's glower, and his mother's stern scowl. He pouted, slinking into the kitchen like a scolded puppy. He grabbed the rest of his sandwich, and glanced at Marionette's back before going to the back door. His lunch was tasteless by then, but he finished it with a hop down each patio step. The back yard was empty.

To his eyes, it was empty. The decayed leaves had already fallen, leaving the trees bare, and the sky was as lilac as always. It was too normal. "Hello?" Not even the breeze responded. Oliver circled each tree in his back yard, landing back to where he was before, as there was not much in the closed off lawn. He squinted, trying to focus, but the magical creatures usually shimmered into view, without the boy trying to find them.

He whispered, lost, "Did you leave me?"

"They're busy."

Oliver sucked in a sharp breath, whirling around to the small voice. His shoulders eased as a lone fairy hovered at eye level, clutching onto a rotten chestnut between her tiny hands. "Lila, what do you mean?"

Lila ducked to one side, tittering, "I mean what I said. They are busy." The boy glanced to his house, so she launched the rotten nut at his head.

"Ow!" He tore his eyes from the kitchen window, and clamped a hand over his forming bruise. Despite her size, the fairy had inexplicable throwing power. "What was that for?"

"Come play with me, over here!" Lila dashed between the trees, leaving a line of glitter to flutter to the ground from her flight.

Oliver gave his ache a last rub, and his feet noisily stirred the decaying leaves as he trailed after her. Her ceaseless laugher wound him around a tree, where she rounded back to yank on a clump of his hair. He squawked, clapping a palm to the offended strands.

"Too slow, Oliver!" Lila called from a few trunks in front of him.

"Is there a purpose in this?" The boy asked, but still trampled after her.

The fairy buzzed behind his head, "Why does there _have_ to be a purpose all the time? You humans need to learn to enjoy yourselves sometimes."

Oliver glanced to the rear of his house again. "My father is back, but Mum sent me out here. I do not want to be outside right now."

"They're probably having grown-up talks," Lila swished a hand. "It is much better away from them, for the moment, don't you think?"

"Not really," Oliver admitted, crinkling his freckled nose. "I think I am going to go back-" The fairy popped from behind him, floating before his eyes with a smile. "What?"

Lila tilted her head. "What?"

"Well, if you do not mind..." The boy stepped around her, in the direction of the patio, but she only got in front of his face again. He barked, "You are up to something!"

"Oliver!" The fairy put her hands on her waist. "That is rude! We aren't _always_ up to something! The only thing I'm up from currently is the ground."

The boy lashed out, clapping his hands together to entrap her between his palms. When he moved his thumb to peek at his catch, nothing was there. He faltered, throwing his head side to side, and spun around in a circle.

Lila tugged on his hair just touching his ear. "You just tried to squish me!"

"It did not work."

"Of course not!" She put her hands on her hips. "Besides, even if you did, I would not be really hurt."

"What do you mean? That would have crushed your body!"

"Don't you mean, it should have?"

"I knew you would have moved. That is how fairies work."

"Oh!" Lila went for his hair again. "You think you know it all, mister?"

Oliver flinched, swishing a hand at her tough attack. The fairy kicked off his head, flipping backwards just in time before she could be painfully batted away. "Quit it!"

"No!" She giggled, zipping around his hands clamping protectively over his scalp, and tugging wherever bright auburn hair peeked through his defenses. "This is for trying to squish me!" As much as he tried to cover, and duck away from the fairy, she always found more. She even grabbed at his eyebrows once. "That is for being rude!"

"You pest!" The words may have been mean, but his half helpless, half amused laughter earned him a sharp pull to his other eyebrow, but Lila ceased her attacks, settling back with a satisfied grin. Oliver went to say something else, but a sudden and heavy breeze slapped them, disturbing the leaves in a rippling pattern, stemming from the house. He caught Lila against his shoulder before she could get thrown too far. "Are you all right?!"

Lila scrambled to sit on his shoulder, and pushed her light brunette locks from her face. "Y-yes, I think so. Would you...would you mind if I came with this time? I sort of felt bad for leaving you last time..."

Oliver's eyes were trained on the clasp of light shooting through his kitchen window. "Mum." He did not hesitate to bound toward the house. The fairy latched onto his vest's sleeve, not wanting to be left behind. "Mum!" The boy shouted before he opened the back door. He stumbled into the kitchen from rushing inside. He stopped, looking around the house for that mysterious light, but it was gone by the time he had gotten there. "Mum?"

Marionette's voice drifted from the living room. "I am here, Oliver."

The boy scurried from bracing against the kitchen table to see his mother kneeling on the living room's carpet, alone. His steps slowed uncertainly, creeping around to her front side with baited breath. The air was absolutely tingly. "Mum?"

His mother's eyes lifted, still distant, and still seeing what was no longer there. Her mouth opened, but she shook her head, unable to say anything. Lila asked from her son's shoulder, "Did you do that light thing?"

Oliver glanced at the fairy from the corner of his eye. "Where is Pa? Did he leave?"

Marionette bobbed her head. "He is gone," she announced blankly. "You do not need to worry anymore, dear. Your father is gone."

"F-for good?"

"Your friends are taking care of him. Is that not great?"

Oliver's eyebrows mashed together. "The spirits?"

His mother nodded, not making an effort to rise from her crumpled position.

"Mum, if it is so great, why are you crying?"

Marionette raised a dainty hand to her damp cheek. "I-it was a lot to do, Oliver, but..." she took a loud, quivering breath, "you will not suffer because of his poor choices." She turned her head to his silence. "Are you angry at me for sending him away?"

"He is not going to yell at you anymore, right?"

She sighed in relief, lifting her apron to start wiping her messy face. "Think of having a handful of balloons. You like balloons, do you, dear?"

Oliver was a tad confused by the sudden question, but he nodded anyway.

Marionette continued, "So, you have a handful of these beautiful balloons. Big, round, and plump, full of air, and touching the sky." Lila glanced at Oliver, looking lost as he was. "Then, one begins to sink, below the others, and any attempt to boost it up to original height is met with further downfall.

"Eventually, the deflated balloon pops, and you are left with all these beautiful balloons shadowing the limp one on the ground, never to rise again. Do you keep dragging it along, hindering your collection, or do you get rid of the balloon not serving its purpose?"

Oliver had enough wit to click the analogy to the current situation. "You rid of it."

Marionette nodded, a soft smile crinkling her teary eyes. "Yes, Oliver. You are a good boy. Do you know that?"

Her son pinched the hem of his shirt, meekly nodding. "You tell me all the time."

"I know. I want you to keep being a good boy. Can you do that?"

Another nod. "Of course." He grimaced from all the odd questions. "Mum, are you going to be all right?"

Marionette said, assuring, "Oh, we are going to be just _dandy._ "

* * *

 _A.N.- Ooh, gurl, she cray-cray._

 _Lila is an OC._


	6. Chapter 5

"Oliver, dear, can you fetch me the morning newspaper?"

"Yes, Mum." For many mornings after the sudden disappearance of his father, Oliver started his day with getting his fingers grimy from the black ink. He read the newspaper a few times, just to understand his mother's new fascination for it. There were too many boring words about how terrible the world was. The boy did find listings for animals, though, to which he excitedly pointed out to Marionette.

"There is a family that is giving away a litter of puppies! Can we get one? I always wanted a pet!"

Marionette took the paper to skim the listing for her son's sake. "They are asking for quite a bit of money, dear." At Oliver's poorly disguised anguish, she said, "Maybe for your birthday."

"That was just a few months ago!"

His mother dismissed him with, "Your next birthday, maybe," losing herself in the printed text, scribbling over some of the words. Oliver knew not to press on about it as she grabbed the house phone and began dialing a number she found on the paper. "Yes, hello, I am calling in response to your ad in the newspaper."

After an exchange of one sided replies, Marionette asked, "Do you know when your new semester will start?" Her eyes widened in shock. "O-oh dear, that late? Okay, thank you." She crossed a clump of lines with a thick marker, and called the next number. When Oliver tried to peek, he only caught the big letters of advertisements littered across the sheets before his mother pulled the newspaper away with a uplift of her lips. "Do not worry yourself about things you do not need to do."

The phone rung again. The boy groaned in annoyance, the beginnings of a headache coming along from the constant noise. Marionette, however, was excited enough to snatch the phone, jump from her seat, and scurry to the other end of the kitchen. Her voice was lower, more secretive for this call. "Yes, you do? How much will it be?" Her shoulders fell. "F-for a season? Not including...all right. That is all I need to know."

Oliver had heard the conversation, but did not listen at all. At her abandonment of the paper, he took it to himself to find out what was happening. Marionette placed the phone on the counter quietly, and turned around, stiffening as the boy gazed down at the sheets. "O-Oliver?"

He raised his head as he clamped the newspaper shut. "Mum," he began weakly. "A-are you...are you trying to rid of me?"

Marionette put a hand over her mouth. "Why would you ask that?!"

Her son backed away from the paper, away from her. "Many of those ads are full of foster care and homes. Are you going to send me away? Did I do something to-"

"Oliver!" Marionette barked to silence him. She bunched up the hems of her skirt, and then gave them a fierce tug. "Do not ever think like that! Foster homes are for parents who do not want their kids!"

"S-so you still want me?"

"I will always want to be with my little boy." Marionette approached him, but then stopped to place a hand on the newspaper. She swallowed, giving the text a lost look. "However, things happen that will not let us have what we want. So, I have to do things that can let us have what we need."

Oliver blubbered through a sob, "Like what?"

"Oh, honey," his mother rushed to him, and clasped his cheeks in her hands. "Do not cry. Mummy is looking for a place where you can stay while she leaves for a bit."

"A bit?" Oliver sobbed harder. This was all news for him. "Where are you going? Why are you going?!"

She ran a soothing hand through his hair, softly confessing, "I wish I did not have to, my dearest child, but without your father, I have to do things to insure your safety. We are going to go to a few places, and check things out, that is all." His mother pulled away to wipe at her son's stream of tears. "There is no need to cry."

"I do not want to...go...why can we not... _hic..._ stay here forever and ever?"

"I..." his mother's mouth bobbed a few times before she closed it, her loving expression growing pained. Oliver knew she did not have a proper answer. "I am sorry, dear. I want you to have a place to sleep, and food to eat, a roof over your head. This is the only way I can guarantee you can have those things, but do not think for a moment I want to get rid of you."

Oliver used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. "Yes, Mum."

Marionette seemed to be lost in thought for a few shallow breaths. "I have several potential places we can look into, all around the country, and even out of it. How about it, Oliver?" She gave her son's shoulders an excited squeeze. "Would you like to go on a quest to look for a new place after staying in this one for so long?"

"I like where I am now. Why can we not stay in our house?"

His mother grimly announced, "We cannot stay because it will not be our house for long. I need you to be a big boy about this. Can you do that for me?"

Even though his cheeks were still wet from crying, his head bobbled up and down.

"Good. We should go as soon as possible. There is no reason to linger if we do not have to, so I want a suitcase packed of your clothes."

Not having a choice in the matter, Oliver nodded again.

Marionette pressed a quick kiss to the side of his face. "I will help you."

Oliver chewed a lot of things over as his mother pawed through his dresser for slacks. "Mum, if I am leaving, why can you not come with me?"

"I must not, darling. You would not be safe, otherwise."

"I thought you said Dad leaving was a good thing."

"It was, honey," his mother replied patiently. She stuffed a few bottoms into a back bag on the boy's bed. "Can you pick out your favorite tops from the closet?"

Her son nodded meekly, although Marionette did not see the gesture. He reached for a pale green vest, and peeked at his mother hum to herself as she folded socks together, filling the bag with a clump of undergarments. "Is it really a good thing, if we are running away?"

Marionette snapped her head up, giving it a little shake in disbelief. "Who says we are running away?"

"Because we are not staying!"

"Do not raise your tone at me, Oliver. I told you we cannot stay."

"You never told me why! Dad is dead, is he?"

"Pa is not dead," Marionette snipped, and grabbed the boy's shirts when he was too slow to take them off their hooks. "Your friends are taking care of him."

"Where? Are we going to see him again?"

"Your father is where the spirits are when they are not among us. They offered to relieve us of his...stupor, and in turn, give him a little alone time to mend himself, which I accepted. He..." she stopped rolling a polo into a ball to gather her words. "He is not here anymore, and once people find out about that, they will be asking questions, and that is when it starts to be a bad thing. So we leave, then they will not be able to ask us questions, and it will not be bad."

Oliver put a hand to his head, rubbing at the ache of stress. "Why would people ask questions?"

"They cannot see the spirits," Marionette reminded him, and resumed to stuff the bag. "To them, he is missing, and they will immediately go to us. We cannot tell them what truly happened. They would not believe us! It would be things a madman would say!"

"This is not a good thing at all," the boy concluded. "This is very bad."

Marionette stopped packing again, to plop her hands on the bag, and sigh. "No, Oliver. Your father is not here to fail as a parent anymore. That is good for us. As long as we understand, that is all that matters, even if we leave."

Oliver did not understand a lot of why he had to leave. He slipped outside that evening to find solace with the fairies, but the yard was empty yet again. Even Lila was not present, and he could not help but feel a little dejected. All of the spirits must have been taking care of his father like Marionette said they would. It was the only logical explanation in the whole mythical mess.

The next morning, Marionette asked him to help bake scones, their favorite breakfast. She would combine the ingredients while the boy set the biscuits on the tray, and put them in the oven. Strawberry jam was their best spread to put on the flaky treat. Then, his mother finished packing anything essential her son may need, slipping little trinkets in the bag when she thought Oliver was not looking. She put the heavy back pack in the trunk of the family car as he settled in the front passenger seat on the left.

He did not try to soak up his last moments in the house. He had been there fourteen years, after all, and most of his memories took place in it, so keeping it all in his head should not be a problem. It was best to rip a bandage off, rather than slowly edge it away from the cut. To make it better, Oliver imagined they were leaving to go on a big, long vacation away from the house. They were never able to take vacations before, due to financial and time restrictions. He managed to make himself smile for a bit.

Marionette situated herself in the driver's side, starting the engine, but did not move anywhere. Her son glanced at her in confusion. "Oliver, honey, would you like to go to the park, while the weather lasts?"

She knew that was his favorite place to go. He feverishly nodded without a word. They drove to their best spot with the windows rolled down, and Oliver held a hand against the wind filling the car. "Do you think we can get milkshakes afterword?"

His mother simply told him, "We can do anything you want to do, dear."

Besides go back home, of course.

There was always a blanket kept in the trunk of the car, in case the sun shined for once, like the current day. It was soft, personally sown by Marionette's mother. His father's mother loathed the woman, enough to roast marshmallows while she burned. That hostility included her son, too, because he was a product of Marionette ruining Mr. Kirkland. Family gatherings were few and far between. They did not have anything nice from her, besides a big sigh of relief when she left.

Oliver rubbed his bare legs against the material once they were situated at their usual spot below a canopy of thin trees. Marionette rested behind him, running her hand through his hair and humming low enough so her songs were only their own. Her boy smiled at anyone passing by, just for the sake of smiling. He earned his fair share of double takes and glares, but young children trailing after their parents would shyly smile back. Some even dared to wave at a complete stranger.

After a couple of hours, the Kirkland's went on the hunt for milkshakes at their favorite restaurant, that which turned out to be a full course meal. Oliver and Marionette shared inside jokes across the table, kicking their legs while their hands covered their mouths in a lame attempt to not let out obnoxious giggles. The surrounding customers stared, of course, and grumbled under their breaths. Eventually, the pair was 'asked' to leave before they could get dessert, and they laughed about that, too.

On the way to the car, Marionette pulled her son in a sideways embrace, squeezing his shoulder. "It makes me happy to see you happy, dear."

The boy shrugged, looking to the clouds ambling across the lavender skies. "It feels much worse if I am moping the whole time, Mum. I think the worse thing that happened was not this, but watching Pa yell at you all those years. He would yell at me, too, if I did not do what he wanted me to. I hope when he comes back, he will be a much better person."

Marionette let off a weak laugh, and gave her son's back a reassuring rub. "I hope so, too."

The first place was several hours away from their small town, somewhere in the rare countryside of England. Oliver's mother tried hyping him about the new homes for him the whole way, and halfway there, he stopped listening, and bobbed his head absentmindedly to pretend he still was. There was still enough daylight left for them to snoop around some group residences, so Marionette pulled down a driveway with overgrown plants spilling onto the rocks, to their supposed destination.

Pebbles and grit flew from beneath the wheels, making for an unpleasant crawl. At the end of the lane, a small patch of asphalt posed as a ruined car park. The front door of the property's house was folded in, as if something rammed into it to get inside. The panels for the building and the half standing fence around it were rotting to match the broken windows.

"It looks like a break in," Marionette murmured. She and her son glanced at one another.

"Mum." Oliver did not know where to begin with the catastrophe.

Marionette threw the vehicle in reverse. "Moving on!"

A bored secretary at the following destination waved a pen in the cold, air conditioned environment, "Ma'am, this is a juvenile detention center."

"Pardon?" Marionette tipped her head.

The other woman sighed. "It is basically a temporary jail, but for minors. So, if your child did not do anything unlawful, illegal, and all that madness, there is no need for him to be here. I suppose if you insist, however, we could admit," she tilted her head down to eye Oliver behind her glasses, "your child."

"Ah, that will not be necessary!" Marionette squeaked, waving a hand. "We will be on our way!"

The secretary relaxed against her desk chair. "Good, good."

After her blunder, Marionette simply said, "Whoopsies."

They rode until the late night. The blurs of lights and the shadows of buildings and trees lulled Oliver to close his eyes. The constant rumbling of the vehicle eventually roused him to awaken, and he blinked rapidly, twisting in his seat to soak up his new surroundings. "Where are we?"

"At the airport, dear."

"An airport? Why in the world...?"

Marionette folded her hands in her lap after tugging the shift stick into park. "I have done plenty of research to find you a decent place to stay while Mum gets things sorted out," she began. Oliver wished she would stop referring herself as 'Mum.' He was not a little child anymore. He kept silent, however, listening to what she had to say since he had just woke up from an uncomfortable sleep. "There are plenty of other kids your age, plenty of self-educational opportunities. From what I gathered, the town has a lot of shops within walking distance, so you will not be bored."

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. The place sounded too good to be true. He nodded to keep her going.

"Now, the place itself is fairly large, right about in the middle of the town, but it is a secluded area. I have called the owner, and she says she lives on the lot, too, and they have room for us."

"That is fantastic, Mum," Oliver said. "You have not talked the others up like this one. What is the catch?"

Marionette took a deep breath, picking at her nails for a tense moment. "It is in Italy."

"Across the Channel?"

"Across the continent." His mother gestured to the airport. "That is what all of this is about."

"Mum, it is one thing to leave our home, but our country? We do not speak Italian!"

"You do not need to! There are plenty of people who learned and speak English. Besides, the youth hostel I checked into is some sort of melting pot of all kinds of little ones. You will have no problem fitting in."

"Right," the boy lightly scoffed, as if that was his most glaring problem.

Marionette nervously giggled. "I want you to know that I want you to have the best I can give you. If that means I have to travel across the world to get it, then I will."

Oliver smiled for her sake. "Thanks, Mum. It means a lot."


	7. Chapter 6

As soon as the Kirklands left the plane, their world was completely different. The air was hot yet pleasant from the Medittereanean Sea, no longer the constant frizz of moisture that hung in the clouds of their old home. Somebody actually smiled back to Oliver when he decided to risk it and wave at a stranger. He did not push his luck, though. Once they reunited with their luggage with minimal issues, and once out of the airport, Marionette hailed a taxi. Two cars almost crashed into one another to attend to her.

"Off to a good start," she muttered, and casted a glance down the impossible traffic flow before opening the back door for her son. The driver started spouting what Oliver guessed was Italian, but his mother stammered, politely asking him if he spoke English.

The man let out a dry laugh and nodded, claiming, " _Si, si, Inglese._ "

"Is there anyway you can take us to the Warden's Youth Hostel from here?"

" _Si, si!_ Safety belts," he warned. Both checked if they were secure, but the driver already whipped away from the curb, into potential death. The quest should have taken over an hour, but they were staring at large, wooden double gates within half that time. Despite being strapped for cash, Marionette paid the cab driver more than enough. People smiled more in the face of money.

The taxi was already down the street by the time they dragged their luggage onto the sidewalk. Marionette turned to her son, and emphasized with a wagging finger, "If and when you decide to start driving, make sure you find somebody who is not an Italian to teach you."

"Yes, Mum."

Marionette lifted the latch to the gate, and pushed open one door, taking in the long expanse of the yard stretching until what must have been the hostel started. The many windows and wooden paneling were not as squalid as the places they previously browsed, already inviting the Kirkland's closer. Oliver glanced at movement from one of the panes on the second floor, just above the roof hanging over the front porch. Two boys peeked at him, looking curious as he was, until the brunet bared his teeth. Oliver dropped his gaze, mashing his eyebrows together as he followed his mother into the building.

The most glaring feature was even more ugly paneling, matched with wallpaper, which sent the Kirkland's a few decades back. The front section had a desk angled to face the front door, so their entrance was not a surprising one. Oliver stood on his toes to whisper to his mother, "It is like Grandmother's house."

Marionette giggled, prompting the elderly woman sitting behind the desk to rise to her feet and tower over the both of them. She pushed up her small reading glasses, scrutinizing the newcomers, and made them feel even more smaller. "Would you happen to be Marionette Kirkland?"

"Ah, yes, that is me! This is my son-"

"Oliver Kirkland," the old woman curtly nodded, her rigid posture never easing as she took her seat again. "Set your bags down, and sit," she told the duo, jabbing a bony finger to the two chairs facing the worn desk. They immediately complied at her commanding voice. "I have been expecting you since your first call."

Oliver glanced to his mother, but she had her eyes trained on the elder. "Yes, ma'am. I came as soon as possible."

The other woman dug around in her desk drawers a bit, producing a thick binder with multiple, frayed tabs sticking in all directions. She cracked it open, grabbing a pen, and flicked to a page that was halfway filled with names. "You said you had copies of identification."

Marionette jumped slightly, but then shoved her hands in her purse for her wallet. She surrendered several papers. Oliver leaned forward to get a look at them, but the sheets were exchanged so quickly, he did not catch anything. He flopped against the back of his chair, and the material huffed against his back. His mother pressed her lips in a thin line to suppress a bout of nervous giggles, opting to fiddle with her outermost skirt as the old woman scribbled in her book. Several more personal questions went by, and her son started to wiggle around in the stained cushion.

The elder rose again, holding out her hand. Marionette lunged forward to shake it. "Thank you, ma'am!"

"I suppose," the old woman's stone gaze drifted to Oliver. The boy had his eyes on his mother. "Do you two need a private moment?"

"Yes, please," Marionette whispered. She clutched onto her child's hand, and urged him outside. The door closed, blocking the elder from seeing her throw her thin arms around Oliver.

Oliver's voice was weak as he hugged her back with equal vigor, "You will be careful, right, Mum?"

Marionette loosened her hold so they could speak face-to-face. "I can handle myself, dear." She tucked her son's shirt tags that were sticking out. "So can you, Oliver. You are growing to be a fine young man. You would do well to stay like that."

Oliver took in the details of his mother's face, so similar to his. The flurry of freckles splattered across her perfect nose, the long lashes bringing out her bright teal eyes, and her mouth always turned up in a smile, despite the happenings around her. The boy could feel the sting of tears plaguing him, but he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He did not want his mother's final moments to be of him pathetically sobbing over something he could not help. He said, "I will do it for you."

"Do it for the both of us," his mother murmured, and gave him another firm embrace. "My little boy," she whimpered, running a hand up and down his back. "Take care of yourself. I love you so much."

Despite squeezing his eyes shut, the tears still leaked out, silently running down his cheeks. Marionette started to pull away, telling Oliver to get inside, but he clutched the back of her dress in pleading to not let him go. "You will come back, right, Mum?"

"Oliver," Marionette whispered. "You need to let go. Come on, dear."

"Will you..." His mother ran her hand to the back of Oliver's head, and pressed a kiss between his eyebrows. At the sound of her sniffling, the boy slacked his grip in horror. "Mum?"

"Please forgive me, Oliver." Marionette yanked away, and flung herself down the porch steps.

"Mum?" Oliver called, but she did not stop to look back from her stiff gait across the yard. "M-Mum..." he wheezed, jumping when there was knocking on the door behind him. Just as the front gate closed, taking the sight of his mother from him, the hostel's door swung inward, revealing the old woman. She did not say anything, and instead waited for the boy to make the choice to come inside. He whispered, "Thank you," to her as she shut the door behind him.

The elder went for a drawer in her desk, jingling against something until she produced a silver key with a tag dangling off of the hole. "Get your bag," she pointed to the back pack still by the seats. "I will take you to your room."

Oliver scrubbed at his leaky eyes for an angry moment before grabbing the straps to his luggage. The old woman watched him grunt from the unexpected weight, and flop it onto his back. "O-okay."

She turned on her heels, approaching a stair case between the rear entrance, and what Oliver caught to be a dining hall to the other side of glass doors from the few tables in the adjacent room. Her drilling voice echoed around the narrow steps, "You are not a guest. You have responsibilities during your stay." Despite the boy keeping quiet from silent terror at the stairs creaking beneath his feet, she continued, "You are to keep your room clean. I do not want roaches and rats running all over the place due to neglectful children not throwing their trash in the bin."

Oliver darted away from the steps, and feverishly nodded when the woman stared him down. "That is reasonable."

"You will share a bathroom with your neighbor, but only with them. It is both of your duties to carry out the same expectations in there, as well."

The corridor stretched to the other end of the building, but halfway through, another hall cut across, leading to other rooms, and a wooden balcony. Just pass the double doors, the elder stopped suddenly. Oliver's shoes drug against the wooden floorboards to stop from bumping into her, and he stepped back as she jammed the key into a door knob. She swung open the door, stepping into the room without a look to see how the boy was faring.

A bed ordained in simple covers pressed against the closest wall, overlooked by a window facing the back yard. Oliver walked up to it, but spun around to scan the cheap wood paneling posing as walls. A dresser was the only other thing in the room except the door leading to the bathroom. He faced the elder, trying his best to keep a nonchalant demeanor. "Thank you," he said again. "It is rather quaint."

"You have manners," the woman noted. "I would expect you not to start fights with the other children. However," she sharply sighed, "altercations will break out. You are to solve your own problems, and mind your own business. If it grows too big for children to settle, the police will do it for you, and perhaps you will need to spend a few nights on a metal bed behind bars."

Oliver stared at her with wide eyes.

The elder made a noise of thoughtfulness, tilting her head the slightest way. "Although, those are problems for undisciplined children."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Call me Miss Warden."

"Yes, Miss Warden."

"Food will be dished out in the kitchen at nine in the morning, and six in the evening. Whether you are there on time, or have another method of obtaining food is on you."

"Another method?" Oliver tugged on the straps of his back bag, wanting to drop it to the floor with a satisfying thump, but remained stiff before the elder.

"Outside the property, there are plenty of shops. You are free to leave the premises at anytime. However, you will not longer be under the privileges and protection of the hostel. Are there any other questions?"

"No, ma'am, ah, Miss Warden."

"You may make yourself comfortable now."

Oliver blinked rapidly in disbelief before a raise of her thin eyebrows prompted him to slide his luggage onto the bed. He rolled his shoulders, and took a big sniffle, still groggy from crying. The old woman gave the teen a slight frown, and turned toward the door, "You ought to make that comfort last. You will be here for a while."

She closed the door behind herself before Oliver could take a breath and ask her questions she did not have the answers to. He listened to her thick boot heels clack further down the hallway, before silence seized the bedroom, save for his shallow breaths. The boy reached out to pat the bed, and tested the springs with a sturdy push before settling on the edge of it.

Oliver stared at the scuffled floorboards, wondering about the room's previous inhabitants to distract himself. A door snapped close from the bathroom, which startled his distant thoughts. He saw the light beneath his door flicker on, and an awful groan of pain come into his room. Whatever the restroom's occupant was whining to himself was interrupted with a spew of retching sounds.

"Oh, that sounds absolutely lovely," Oliver grumbled. He hopped off his bed, cautiously approaching the door was if it were going to fling open from the sickness. He knocked lightly, and pressed closer to the wood. "Excuse me? You all right in there?"

"What do you think?" A snappy voice barked, followed by more gags. "Ugh, my stomach..."

"I-I have medicine, if you need some!"

The door to Oliver's bedroom swung open, almost clipping him in the face. Another dark haired boy about his age propped against the frame, panting, and smacking his lips from his sickness. He crinkled his nose, which was already bent to the side. The wound must have been definitely painful when he received it. "Who are you?"

"I am Oliver. I just came here a few moments ago."

A snort from the gnarled nostrils, "I do not need your medicine, Oliver." The other boy grabbed the door knob, and then yanked the door closed. At least he stopped vomiting.

Oliver trudged back to his bed, and pulled the back pack away to flop himself on the stiff comforter. It smelled clean, and the sheets beneath it did not have any noticeable stains, so he kicked off his shoes, and shimmied beneath the covers to hide himself from the sunset. His eyes stung again, but by then, the boy was tired of crying, tired of traveling, and tired from being pulled away from his quiet life.

Even so, he had tossed and turned on the unfamiliar bed throughout the night. Oliver awoke the following morning with a parched throat and disorientation as he sat up, looking around the wooden panels wrapping around the room. His bag slipped from the edge of the bed, thumping loudly on the dark floor.

"Oh!" Oliver squeaked. He cleared his throat, and slipped from the covers, reaching for the back pack. The boy glanced to his day clothes, realizing he had not changed out of them before falling asleep. He dully noted, "Already off to a lovely start."

The scent of his old house drifted from the clothes inside the bag. The boy stared at the light garments for a few limping moments, but snapped himself out of it with a shake of his head. He had enough time to mope, according to his rumbling stomach. He stepped into the hallway, uncertainly glancing both ways. Just as he tucked the collar of his polo to a presentable fold, his bedroom door closed behind him, and he realized he forgot his key.

Oliver snatched the silver trinket off his dresser, closing the door quietly, and twisted the lock. He decided to keep the key in his short's front pocket, patting it through the soft material as he padded down the hall. The doors to the balcony were open, and two kids were bickering back and forth about the third one, a light blond, who glanced behind himself, and gazed at Oliver with curious eyes. The boy kept walking, continuing to the stairs.

Miss Warden sat at her desk positioned at the front entrance, sipping on a dark liquid in a chipped mug. She picked up her head when Oliver crept over to her, but did not take her cup away from her aged face until she was finished. "Hello, Oliver. Many say they have trouble sleeping on the first night, but you look well pressed," she noted with a quick sweep at his clean outfit. "Go get yourself something to eat and feel the sun on your skin. You are pale as paper."

"Yes ma'am," Oliver quipped, and spun around toward the food hall. A set of double wooden doors opened to a large room with a low ceiling. There were not many other children at the tables around the support beams, but he had caught his neighbor sitting by himself. He drew up to the bench at the other boy's table, calling a greeting.

His neighbor picked up his head, snarling permanently with his old injury. "What do you want, Oliver?"

"Are you feeling better today?"

The other boy dropped the purple strawberry he was chewing on. "Why would you ask that?"

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, dumbfounded as his neighbor. "Y-you were sick last night..."

"It happens. That is none of your business."

"If you say so," Oliver sighed, and dropped the subject to pursue his own breakfast. A short buffet table offered fruits and pieces of bread. He wondered if Miss Warden had done it, but he was too hungry to worry about trifling matters. He snatched a brown apple from the tray of bronze, blues, and amber, before whisking out of the cafeteria. His neighbor had slate eyes that dug into his back.

Oliver used the rear door, his feet swishing across the thick grass spreading all the way to the back gate. He stopped halfway toward it, taking a bite out of his apple. The late morning was already hot, but the quiet was more concerning. It was too quiet; the absence of any creatures was blatant. Since nothing interesting was in the back yard, he spun around to investigate the larger front lawn, but jerked to a stop when the branches above his head clacked against each other without a breeze. The boy slowly craned his head back, catching a large ball of white fuzz slink through the twigs as if it were made of liquid.

He faced the tree trunk the creature was edging down, causing it to pick up its head, and stared at the boy with wide, dark eyes on its feline face. It circled around the tree, a long, fluffy tail twitching as the teen followed its movements. Oliver gulped down another mouthful of his fruit. "Hello!"

The creature froze, peeking from behind the trunk at eye level. It hissed, "You say hello to me?"

Oliver giggled, and nodded. "Who else would I say it to?"

"It has been a considerable amount of time since I was able to talk to a human that would listen."

Somehow, Oliver was able to relate. "Where are the other creatures? I have yet to see any fairies, and they are all over the place."

The cat-monkey surveyed the human before him, and then pointed at the apple with a small, clawed hand. "Surrender your fruit, and I will tell you."

Oliver shrugged, walking up to the chimera with his palm open. Its rump wiggled eagerly as it grabbed the apple, and launched up the tree to take large chomps from it.

"I will give you the reason why you cannot see any light beings. They are not here. That is all."

"Light beings?"

"You can see them, but you do not know what they are?" The cat-monkey spat out several seeds. Oliver took a step back. "Pixies, some other chimera, fairies, even those little lights that can be floating around. Those are all light creatures. There are dark creatures, as well, like coal tars, but they are not all dangerous."

Oliver beamed, "Fascinating! Mum never told me about that!"

The small chimera gazed down at him, twitching as if nervous. "Your mother was able to see us?"

"She still can!"

"She is around?"

The boy excitedly nodded. "She has to do some things, but she will be back soon to pick me up. Maybe you can talk to her then!"

The cat-monkey let go of the nibbled core, momentarily distracting Oliver. He glanced to where the center landed, and back up, but the chimera had vanished without another word.

* * *

 _A.N.- Miss Warden- OC. Oliver's neighbor- OC. I guess the Italian taxi driver is an OC, too._


	8. Chapter 7

Oliver found that a walkway wrapped around the entire property, leading up to the front gate. Metal bleachers stood a little way from the wooden fence, alive with whispers of the several girls perched on the benches. They stopped tittering to stare at the boy walking pass them. He glanced to them, but quickly turned his gaze to the sidewalk. One of them spat at him to get his attention.

"You!"

The boy turned around.

"Do not look so scared," one of the girls told him. "Was that your mother that dropped you off here yesterday?"

"Y-yes, it was!"

"Oh." The benchwarmers exchanged sad looks. Before Oliver could question them, one noted, "She looks a lot like you."

Oliver nodded. "I know."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"You are fourteen?!" The girl exclaimed.

Another said, "I thought you were like, eight."

Oliver's face scrunched up in distaste. "No," he sharply relayed, "I am fourteen and a half."

"Oh," the girls shared a collective noise. "And a half."

He felt like they were giggling at him, so he dismissed himself, hurrying back to where he was before. The chimera may have been gone, but the devoured apple core rested in the cyan grass. Oliver smiled, and kicked it. The center bounced, and rolled across the ground before stopping suddenly. The boy hopped to it, sweeping his leg out, and sent it against another tree, making it ricochet into the dirt.

Oliver laughed in delight, sending the apple center between each tree. He was so engrossed in his newfound entertainment, he had not caught the sound of heavier footsteps approaching him. "Oh, it is broken," he nudged the now destroyed core crumbling beneath his foot. The steps were then dangerously close, but before he could turn around, strong arms shot from behind him, and curled around his neck.

The boy let out a high scream of fright, jumping against the body behind him. He lurched forward to break free, but the hold only tightened, a terrible pressure against his throat. Oliver spat in a mix of anger and fear as uncomfortable heat made his head and lungs burn. Not able to wiggle from the strong brace, in a last effort, he raised his leg, and used his heavy shoe to stomp on his attacker's foot.

"Ow!" The body immediately released him, and Oliver stumbled forward. He clutched onto his neck, and reunited with air.

"Seriously, Lutz?" Another, snippier voice snapped out, "That was your shortest time yet!"

A third one suggested with the same accent as the peckish voice, "How about you try doing it? Oh, wait, you are the size of a full grown midget. You can't."

Oliver whirled on his attackers, putting on his biggest glare he could muster. His eyebrows trembled with the exertion! The trio watched his defenses in vague amusement. The tallest boy exclaimed, "You are that one that was looking at us on the balcony!"

"Yes," Oliver sneered, "pleasure to meet you."

The other blond praised, "He is salty. I like it."

"You would like a squirrel if it threw an acorn at Lutz's head."

"Ew, no! Squirrels are gross!"

The tall boy, Lutz, asked, "What do you have against squirrels? They're...kind of cute."

"Who are you?" Oliver snapped. The three boys turned on him again, and he instinctively took a step back. "I-is that what you do for fun? Jump other children to see their reactions?"

The middle boy crossed his arms, jerking his chin out with a slight smirk. "Of course! Why wouldn't we, when we can make little boys screech like that?!"

Oliver's face flared with embarrassment. "That is stupid."

Lutz pushed his light hair over his head when it fell into his eyes. "Y-you are not hurt, are you?"

The darker blond smacked his arm. "Don't apologize, you stupid oaf. We'd look uncool!"

The brunet put in, "Stop trying to be cool. It is not going to work."

"Sorry, Flavio."

"What did I just say? No apologizing! Jeez, Luciano, next time you find a couple of boys in the gutter, make sure you keep walking."

"Hey!" Lutz exclaimed, "You don't say that about my brother!"

"I didn't!" Flavio spat back, putting his hands on his hips. "Your brother is not as nearly as stupid as you."

"You cannot tell," Luciano gave a sad shake of his head. "He is so quiet, after all."

"Well, duh," Lutz said. "He can't talk."

Luciano smacked the back of his head. "Don't 'duh' at me!"

"Yeah!" Flavio urged the other on.

Oliver asked, "What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

"Oh really?" Luciano sputtered, "Then why were you out here giggling to yourself like a lunatic?"

"I was having fun."

Flavio said, "You were running around alone, making these annoying noises. Kids around here will not like that."

Lutz rubbed the spot where he was hit. "Since you are new and all, we thought you should know."

" _Si,_ " Luciano narrowed his sharp violet eyes with a hint of a mischievous smile coming forth. "Just be glad we found you first, and not some of those other losers. They'd steal your trousers, then you would have to run around in your underwear if they caught you."

Oliver put a hand to his chest. "I do not have to worry about that. I am not going to be here long."

Flavio crinkled his nose. "What do you mean by that?"

"My Mum is going to pick me up after she is done with...things."

Flavio's narrowed expression fell to a baffled look. "Is that what she said to you?"

Before Oliver could reply, Luciano blurted, "Don't tell me you believe that!"

"W-what? Why not?"

"It is one thing for us to enroll ourselves, but if your mother dropped you off, there's no way she is going to come back for you!"

"That is not true!" Oliver snapped. "She would not leave me here!"

"Whatever," Luciano called him something inappropriate in his native language. "Tell us that again in a few months, and we'll laugh, and say we told you!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Great!"

Lutz declared, "I think we wasted enough time here."

"I think you may be right. Let's go do something else."

Flavio gave Oliver a last glance, eying him with a thoughtful hum, before hurrying to the other boys' departure. Oliver leaned on a tree nearby, rubbing his neck where Lutz almost strangled him. He whispered to himself, "I will be out soon. Mum would not keep me here."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Apparently, soon was longer than several weeks. Oliver was in the same spot he was in the first day he arrived to the hostel; still friendless, but still hopeful to go back home with Mum and Dad. The weather was just turning cool for the Italian peninsula when Miss Warden personally went to him. He was eating breakfast by himself, despite the other children in groups around him. The boy lifted his head from his biscuit, feeling surprised to be in her presence.

"Oliver, I have news for you. When you are done eating, come by my desk."

The boy shoveled his food in his mouth as Miss Warden left without further word. He hurried to the trash cans to dump out his waste, and his foot clipped on the edge of a table, but nobody was sitting at it to laugh at him. The elder picked her head up from her book, shocked at his speedy arrival. "Is it about my Mum?"

"Sit down for this, Oliver."

He complied, folding his hands on his shaking legs. Miss Warden unfolded the newspaper on her desk, paging through it, until a headline caught her eye. She pressed it flat to the surface, pointing at an article, and pulled away without a word. Oliver leaned forward, scanning the bolded words, followed by tiny print beneath.

"What does this mean?" When the elder translated the Italian text, the boy whispered, "What does it mean that she admitted responsibility?"

Miss Warden took a deep inhale, gazing at Oliver for a tense moment. "The reason news of your mother is in the Italian papers is because she was nearby, taken to the local police station for questioning."

"Why was she questioned?" Oliver's voice broke with pitch. "What did she do?"

"There has been an anonymous tip off about your father's disappearance, so they labeled her as a suspect. She had recently come clean, and admitted she is the reason he is... _missing._ "

"Who could have..." The teen choked off.

"Oliver," Miss Warden quietly announced, "You would do well to accept your mother is not coming back."

"B-but Pa is not dead! Why would she take responsibility? It is not her fault-"

"Oliver," The elder said more sharply. He jumped, breaking his watery gaze from the newspaper. "This is a lot to take in. You should stay in your room until your head clears."

The boy bobbed his head, already sobbing as he lifted himself out of the chair. Oliver clutched onto the walls when he escaped upstairs, almost ramming into Luciano as the other boy went to descend the steps. The brunet went to say something, most likely cocky, but he saw the terrible splotches decorating Oliver's face, and opted to stare after his retreating back instead.

Oliver yanked his bedroom door shut, the force vibrating the entire wall. Even if his bed was just a few feet away, he leaned against the wood, slowly sinking to the ground. "No," the word was sputtered between spastic lips. "No, no..."

The door shook as somebody knocked on the other side. "Oliver?"

He picked up his head from his knees, taking a big take of fresh air. "Great news, Luciano. You can say you told me so!"

"What? Oh. Why did you think she was ever going to come back in the first place?"

"She was suppose to!" Oliver spat, slapping his palms to the floor on both sides of himself. "It is not that she will not, it is because she cannot!"

"Why not?"

"Why should I tell _you_?"

"Don't be like that," Luciano almost whined from the other side of the door. "I thought you were supposed to be nice."

"Who said that?"

"You're a smiler, aren't you?"

"I'm a what?!"

"You never heard that before? You're a smiler, and you never heard of the word?"

"I am not!"

"You are!"

"Belt up, Luciano!"

"You get a belt on!"

Oliver gritted his teeth, certainly not in the mood to argue with an Italian idiot. Without a reply, Luciano declared, "I'm hungry. I'm going to get something to eat."

"Good riddance," Oliver muttered, even if it was not. He pushed away from the door, uncomfortable against his back, and crawled for his bed. The boy slipped under the covers, wanting nothing more than to leave this silent prison. His rest was too short, and he did not remember anything from his unconscious when reality disturbed him once again to bring him back to the living.

"Oliver! Wake up! Oliver!"

"Hm, what is it, Mum?" Oliver murmured groggily.

A light pressure lied on his forehead, making his eyes flutter open. The being staring down at him was not his mother. The teen shot up with a sharp inhale, startling the fairy balancing on his face. She glided away to settle on the edge of the cot. "Hello, again, Oliver!"

Oliver stammered, not able to from coherent words. Lila tilted her head. "Has a troll clawed your tongue?"

The boy shook his head, and managed a little smile. "No, it is lovely to see you again." He wiggled from his covers, edging closer to the fairy. "It has been so long, I was beginning to think we would never talk again!"

"We were worried, too, Oliver! You suddenly disappeared from your home, and you did not come back! Then, I was doing what I usually do when I heard rumors that were was a human that was able to see us, so I had to come and investigate!"

"At least your journey was not a waste of time!"

"Too, right!" Lila glanced around the room. "So, where is this strange place? What is it, even? Where's Marionette?"

Oliver dropped his gaze to the bed sheets.

"Oliver?"

"She brought me here to keep me safe when she could not."

The fairy shook her head. "Safe from what?"

"The police? The government? Whoever is after her to pin my father's disappearance on her."

"How do they know she is responsible? I thought most humans do not know about us!"

"I do not know! _I do not know!_ I suppose they suspected her, and she confessed to being the cause of his disappearance. Everyone thinks she murdered him."

"What!" Lila threw her hands over her head in a gesture of disbelief. "Your father is not dead! He is in the Realm!"

"That is what they do not know!" Oliver did a double take. "Wait, what Realm?"

"The Realm of Spirits! That's where your mother sent your father!"

Oliver curled his lip. "That is a rather uncreative name."

Lila shrugged. "It was not my doing."

"Can you bring him back? Please, my mother will not be able to get out of jail until they know my father is alive."

"Um, Oliver, your father cannot see us. How can we help him?"

"He thinks he is alone in a place full of spirits?" Oliver blurted, "What if I pull him out? He can see me!"

"Oliver, can you handle ripping a veil into the world, go into it, and pull someone out, _and_ close it?"

"Frankly, I never tried."

"Exactly!" Lila crossed her arms. "Neither can most beings in this world, so we need to get to the Realm, where we can ask some spirits to send him back for us."

"Pardon?"

The fairy smacked a palm to her forehead. "For someone that speaks to us, you are not educated at all!"

"What!" Oliver squawked, "I am not dumb!"

"I did not say that." Lila crossed her arms, and stuck her chin out. "I said you are uneducated. There is a difference."

The boy scooted back to sit against the wall. "Then educate me. If you cannot travel through veils and wormholes from realm to realm, how are you here now?"

"Ha, that's easy! Each world is on its own existence, but there is a meeting place of multiple planes, and that is the Realm of Spirits. The only way to get to the Realm is through your unconsciousness. Your spirit can easily reach it, but you are impeded by your body."

"Lovely," Oliver bared his teeth in an odd smile. "What, I ditch my body on a one way journey?"

"No!" Lila balled her fists. "Keep your body! All you need to do is be as you would when you prepare to sleep, but take control of your thoughts. I will show you how to meditate to there."

"Sounds easy enough," Oliver muttered. He flopped onto his back at the fairy's prompting, and closed his eyes.

"Instead of allowing your mind to wander freely, form a path in your mind that takes you where you want to be." After the boy was quiet for several moments, Lila rose from the edge of the bed, and lightly perched on his forehead. "Are you asleep now?" She gasped and flew back when Oliver's eyes opened, his eyebrows mashing together in agitation. "Yeah, it's pretty hard at first. You have to carve your way to the Realm before you can travel back and forth. We can try again, though! Don't fret if you do not get it on the first try."

"I am not fretting," Oliver said. He closed his eyes again, imagining a lawn mower rampaging through a thick clump of grass. The bumps and indistinct conversations from the other rooms became the whirl of the blades eating any foliage along the way. His lips shook with soft beckoning, "Realm of Spirits, let me in. Let us be a happy family for once."

* * *

 _A.N.- Lutz- 2p!Germany. Luciano- 2p!Veneziano. Flavio- 2p!Romano._


	9. Chapter 8

"It did not work, did it?"

"Oliver, open your eyes!"

Oliver did, alarmed by the sky being swallowed by a slow grazing fog. He shot to a sitting position, wobbling his arms from the sensation that he could be carried away. "Careful!" Lila's voice warned. He looked around, gaping at the fact he was in a fairytale, with actual fairies, to top it off!

The mounds of grass were a mix of blue and green, lightened by tiny balls of eternal lights instead of a large star in the sky. "This is the Realm of Spirits," Oliver let out a breath he did not need. "It...it is beautiful."

"Of course!" Lila grabbed a clump of his hair, tugging. "Remember, you are only here in your mind. There are some things you cannot interact with, and some creatures will not be able to see you." She flew in front of his face, her wings glowing much more radiance than they did in Oliver's physical world. She grinned at his stare. "Surprise!"

Oliver gave himself a little shake, pushing from the ground, and gasped how he could float to his feet. "Abso-bloody-lutely amazing!"

"Come on!" Lila gave his ear lobe a pull. "You want to see your father or not?"

"Of course. Should I expect traps and a long, excruciating journey, that ends with realizing friendship is more than important above all-"

"Your mother tells you too many fantasy stories!" Lila hollered, cutting the boy's rambling to a surprised stutter. She huffed, and pointed toward a large pile of boulders. "Your father is that way."

Oliver scoffed, "No way!"

"Yes, way!" The fairy zipped away. "Come on, if you want to get to him!"

The boy went to scramble over the rocks instead of going around the huge pile, but when he pressed a hand against the sparkling surface, it seeped warmth into his existence, and a deep growl vibrated the ground beneath his feet. Oliver leaped away. The shifting boulders stopped moving once they realized the disturbance backed off. He decided to go around the gathering of 'rocks.'

Lila was fluttering in slow circles on the other side, giggling at Oliver's frazzled expression when he stumbled from a decline in the ground. "Watch where you put your hands!" She warned, only too late. The boy's scowl said it all as he rubbed his chest worryingly at the absence of a heartbeat. The fairy continued to fly toward a lone tree overlooking a cliff dropping off to a range of more mountains and valleys. "He's right there."

"My father is a tree?!"

"Hush! Don't startle him! He has been on edge for a while now..." Lila glanced at the drop off. "Literally. Go slow. He has not seen another living being in weeks."

Oliver stiffly nodded, and crept toward the incline leading the tree, feeling more dizzy as he neared the cliff. As he drew closer, he saw dirty jean covered legs stretching from the trunk. The boy drew a sharp breath, a usual reaction to sudden surprise, when he stared down at a mop of his father's hair, frayed from lack of hygiene. The man did not move when his son stepped from the tree to stand before him, who noticed his eyes were shut.

His father looked so neglected, with his wrinkled clothes, pale skin, and bruises above his sharp cheekbones, for a moment, Oliver wondered why his mother broke their family apart. Yet his eyes cracked open to his infamous scowl, and the boy remembered wondering if his father acted on his son's best interests, or his own. None the less, Oliver lightly cleared his throat, standing straight as his father's gaze moved up to his face. He formally began, "Hello, Father."

Mr. Kirkland's jaw slacked, and Oliver's slight smile fell to a bewildered glare as a drawn out growl came through his father's teeth. "D-dad?"

Lila bristled from the boy's head. "Um, Oliver..."

The man twitched, falling away from the tree he leaned against. Oliver gasped, then knelt, and reached a hand over him, but did not want to touch the disgusting clumps of hair. His father's arms shakily reached out, as if they were not his own, and dug his hands into the bicolored grass. He grunted, pulling closer to his son. The rank stench washed over Oliver, who flinched, and instinctively scooted away from him.

"Dad, it is me, your son, Oliver."

His father only replied with an animalistic snarl, snapping his jaw at Oliver's ankle. The boy shrieked in horror, shambling away. Lila yanked on a clump of auburn hair. "Oliver, get away from him!"

Oliver did not need to be told twice, scrambling to his feet, and hustling anywhere but near the tree. He skittered to the side, away from the cliff, and casted a frightened look at his father crawling after him, still making those dreadful snarling noises. "I-I do not understand. Why is he acting like that?"

"I have only been gone from here for a week, looking for you!" Lila shouted over the man's famished roars. "I don't think that is your father his body anymore!"

"Where in the world would be go, then?"

Lila flew off his head, giving the boy's chest a shove, her wide eyes telling him she was confused was well. "S-something must have taken over-" she cut off to let out a loud squeak, zipping away when Mr. Kirkland heaved from the ground, and stumbled forward, arms reaching out greedily.

Oliver breathlessly cried out, spinning around to flee. He dove up the hill, his entire being strangled with fear, detached from his physical body. The fairy landed on his head once more, yelling, "It's me! It's me!" when the boy flinched, and swatted at the sudden weight. She latched onto his hair as he sprinted past the collection of 'rocks.'

A predatory hiss drifted into the air as Mr. Kirkland eagerly followed, though at a much more rigid gait. He clambered pass the pile, faltering to one side from the great growl shaking the ground when he wandered too close. Oliver fell backwards with a scared yelp, still locked in his father's bloodshot gaze. The boulders shifted, and within a single movement, descended upon the man.

Beady eyes popped out from the giant, heavy creatures, and their thick legs were lost into the collective attack. Oliver gaped as the sparkling 'rocks' moved and growled amongst one another. A loud series of snapping shot over the fierce vibrations, and just as it started, they retreated back to their initial position, leaving behind dark splatters on the grass. Mr. Kirkland was nowhere in sight. Lila worryingly zipped around Oliver's head as the boy stared at the remains.

The fairy tugged an ear, causing Oliver to slowly turn his head to her. He opened his mouth, looking lost as she was, pitifully shrugging. "I'm sorry, Oliver, I did not know..."

The boy's hands rose to his face, trying to get a grip on reality when he was distanced from his physical self. "I-if Pa is dead, how will Mum ever get out?"

Lila did not have a good answer, if there was one. Her silence only made Oliver sob more. Another growl reverberated through the grass. Both gasped, and automatically shrunk back. The teen wiped at his reddened face, and pushed to his feet to get away from the large creatures. The fairy pulled on his shirt collar to encourage him. "We gotta get back to your world!"

Oliver flopped to the grass where he first woke up, taking some of the bicolored blades between his fingers. "E-even if he was not the nicest man, he did not deserve never seeing his family again. This was his chance to redeem himself. I-it was not suppose to happen this way."

"I know, Oliver," Lila tried her best to soothe. "Let's get back." She sank beside his head, grimacing as another sob rocked the boy's body.

When he woke up, his cheeks were wet, and a new stream of tears touched his fingertips when he prodded his cheeks.

A whispery voice drifted from his pillow. "Oh, if I only knew..."

"No, no. Do not blame yourself. My father is not your responsibility. Neither of us knew that would happen."

The fairy rested on Oliver's lap, looking up at his streaked face. "If there is anything the fae can do to make you feel better, then I want to help you!"

"I said not to worry."

"Jeez, Oliver, I would if I could! If you want me to not worry, then let me help you _not_ worry. What can of fairy would I be if I do not nurture the life around me?"

"Very well," Oliver wiped the dampness from his cheeks, looking serious. "My mother."

He said the words almost inaudibly. Lila hesitated, figuring out what the boy was asking of her. "Um..."

Oliver lightly giggled, sniffling through his shaky smile. "I would not expect anything less of you if you do not want to go on a painstaking journey to find her. I understand."

"Oh, that's what you want? _Pssh_ , easy as pollen! Just you wait, Ollie. I'll find your mom!" His friend shimmered away in a clump of glitter, back to the Realm.

Oliver pulled himself out of his bed, a lame attempt at being a normal citizen of society, or at least the youth hostel, but every time he dried his eyes, the nightmare kept leaking out again. He decided to stow himself away in his room for the moment, distracting the time by rummaging through his back bag. Scrunching his face, the boy caught a small zipper deep inside the bag, hidden by his clothes.

"I do not remember that being there," Oliver muttered, giving the zipper a tug. He pulled whatever was inside into view, his horror wearing away to shock as he clutched a thick wad of cash in his hand. "T-that is a lot of money." His mother must have snuck that in there, and he could easily imagine her gesturing with a sharp finger toward the currency, telling him to use it wisely. Although he heard that phrase many times, he thought it was rather silly, since money was meant to be spent. Using it would be wise as opposed to letting it sit.

Oliver thought of all the good things he could buy with that much money. Nearing the three digit range, it was a lot to a fourteen year old. His mind jumped to the bookstore a few blocks from the hostel, but it would not be long before his shirts would be rising up his back, and his shoes were beginning to pinch his toes. It was enough to take his thoughts away from the fact that he could not vent his terror to anybody. He would be thrown into prison talking about those things, just like his mother, or worse.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

So he trudged through the days running into one another, avoiding the other inhabitants as much as possible while he waited Lila's return. When Oliver passed his neighbor in the dining hall, the other boy would pick up his head from his meal, expecting to be bothered, but he was ignored. Eventually, he found his own people, and they have not spoken since. The lost of a potential friend, or even a meager acquaintance only brought more weight upon Oliver's shoulders. Even Luciano's small gang, with his brother, Lutz, and Lutz's brother, Siegmund, had a fifth member now; Kuro, a short oriental boy that spoke little English. He had gotten very flustered and nasty when Oliver tried to greet him, stumbling over his words, and opted to a bow before fleeing from him.

He was sure making human friends would make things better, but he just did not know how. Every time he went to somebody, they would up freaked out or worse; call him names and laugh at his lame attempts of being amicable. This is what made him most uneasy when he was approached by two young ladies on a somewhat warmer day of spending the time by himself.

"She isn't coming back."

Oliver let out an embarrassingly loud gasp, scrambling away from the tree he was propped against. He spun from the trunk overlooking the rear gate, and faced the pair of girls. "Excuse me?"

"Don't get snippy," the older one warned. "I'm just saying you shouldn't be waiting out here for something that will never come."

"You do not know that," Oliver said. Nobody knew anything.

"Oh, I don't? I have been here for _six_ years. No one comes back. Whether it is because they don't want to, or can't, it doesn't happen. So, stop moping all the time. It's really sad to look at."

"Look away then."

"Can't," the girl shrugged. "It's like a car crash, or a car slowly crumbling from the crash."

Oliver scorned, "Can we not talk about this?"

"Then how about we talk about something else? Come to the bleachers. The girls have a lot to say."

The teen stared at the pair as if they were mad. "W-what if I do not want-"

"You rather sit around and rot into the grass? I didn't get that vibe from you."

Oliver quieted.

The older girl lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip, and began towing him across the lawn. Her companion let out a soft gasp, scurrying after them. Oliver sent a panicked look around the trees, begging somebody, anybody to save him. "What, I do not possess a say in the matter?"

"Nope!" The girl's lips popped with the dramatic emphasis. "If we left you to your own will, you'd wind up hanging from a tree like all the other outcasts."

"Hanging from trees sounds fun, though."

The younger girl murmured, "With a rope around your neck?"

Oliver gave her a shocked look. "I suppose not."

The older one called out, "Hey, girls!" flapping a hand to a cluster of others perched on the multiple levels of the bleachers. Oliver's legs grew stiff as they turned from their inner conversations, and gawked at him. For a quick thought, he wanted to escape into those walls that he built up around himself to shield away from these crazy kids. However, with the girl's grip on his wrist, he was left to stand before this larger group like a suspect before a judge.

One demanded, "Why did you bring a boy over here? You know boys are loud, and messy, and mean-"

"Not everyone," the girl who chained Oliver brought him out again when he tried to sneak behind her. "I caught this one hiding in the grass like a wild animal. I never seen eyes _that_ scared, like a I would flay him."

The group let out a collective "Aww," causing the boy's ears to burn red. "He isn't with those other stupid guys?"

"Nope, all alone."

 _Not alone, but lonely._ Oliver did not resist the light hands that guided him up the bleachers. Someone whispered, "I think he's a little shy." He plopped onto a metal bench halfway to the top with an indignant huff, earning giggles from his captors. Some went to resume their previous conversations, braiding one another's pony tails while others moved to the boy. He jumped slightly as multiple sets of fingers ran through his hair. It could not be braided like the girls' longer hairs, but the touches were like his mother's, and he eased with a settled smile on his face.

"Thank you." He was sure none of them heard his murmur, but the attention made all the difference.

The quiet girl that accompanied the oldest delicately picked up his hand, as if it would break. Girls, at least these ones, were very gentle. Oliver did not mind at all being so far away from other boys for once. "May I paint your nails?"

Oliver raised his eyebrows, imagining the paint used on walls. She reached into her purse, and produced small vials of strange colors, her mouth uplifting in hope. "Would it hurt?" The boy asked, cheeks growing hot as the surrounding girls snickered.

The older girl made a grabbing motion. "Gimmie the pumpkin green one. I'm going to work on his other hand."

They brought little brushes stemming off the caps to his fingers without answering. He tensed, but only felt his hands being steadied by theirs. The girl combing his hair asked from behind, "Do you use the House's generic shampoo for your hair? I wish it did wonders like that to _my_ hair."

Oliver craned his head back, eying the poufy mane. "Your hair is suitable with your dark complexion."

More giggles, and he could not help his own smile at the sounds. "Hey! Stop jerking around, unless you want green fingers."

"Oh, pardon me," Oliver straightened, nervously giggling at the potential wrath. Some of the girls giggled, too, for the sake of laughing. He sighed happily, his eyes fluttering close from the nails scraping slowly across his scalp.

"What's your name?"

His eyes opened, alarmed. "Who, me?"

The oldest girl said, "No, the other boy on the bench." When Oliver glanced side to side, she playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes, you!"

"M-my name is Oliver!"

"Oliver, that's a nice name," another cooed, giving one of her bench mate's ponytail a tug. "Here you thought he was gross!"

"Girl, everyone is gross sometime."

The eldest rocked side to side as if she could not keep still. "So what's up? Don't you have _any_ body you talk to around here?"

Oliver's mind went to the chimera and some fairies that visit to chat with him from time to time. "I am afraid not."

"How come? You seem like a guy that minds his own business. People like that."

Another girl snorted, "Woo, not me! You got gossip, you make sure I hear it first, okay?"

"You know what I mean!" The eldest barked at her bench mate. "All those other boys are running around looking for trouble. Why would you lay around in the grass when all of this drama and excitement is happening around you?"

"I tried to make friends, but they act like they do not want any."

"Well, of course they don't! That's just how people are."

A girl put in, "Shows weakness."

"Oh yeah! Can't have that, can you?" A snort, "Well, tough, Oliver. You can let it keep bothering you, or you are going to give it right back to them."

"What," the boy furrowed his eyebrows, "be inexplicably rude to others?"

"Not necessarily. Just don't take crap from them. Are you going to go back to moping around again, and make us drag you back here to the bleachers everyday, or are you going to deal with what you got and move on?"

Oliver was tempted to crawl back into his hiding hole, but he wondered what that would accomplish. These girls seemed friendly enough, as he treaded on thin ice with their collective might. His mother always encouraged him to be the happiest that he can be, but he could not be happy when lonely and trudging around the property that teemed with potential. He must have gotten to a very low point for strangers to be bothered with his sadness! Even sheltered, the boy knew people could be awful, but that shelter was gone now. He could do new things and meet new people that he never got the chance to under his mother's protection. Oliver was grateful for her, and he loved her so, but he did not want to get to the point that making sandwiches for his son was the highlight of his day, where she had reached.

The girls must have noticed the newfound light in his eyes, even in his straightened posture. A few giggles and murmurs passed around the benches, and Oliver found himself not worrying that their words were about him. The soft-spoken one surrendered the hand she was working on. "I'm done with your nails, Oliver."

"Me too!"

Oliver held out his hands, bending his fingers experimentally as the paint dried. The colors were much more nicer than plain nails. He cracked a broad smile. This is not bad at all! "It is lovely. Thank you."

The quiet girl covered her own smile with a hand. "I figured the green would match your vest."

"So it does." Oliver flashed his smile at the other girls. A few of them stared with wide eyes, almost scared. He shrugged, "What?"

"Yeah, what!" The oldest girl put a hand on her hips. "Why did everyone grow quiet all of a sudden? It's just a smile."

The one behind Oliver clicked her tongue, "You got that right! Screw all those bitches who hate on you for smiling."

Oliver gasped, putting a hand over his mouth. The shy girl nodded, and added, "I never understood that. I made a silly face out of ketchup when I was eating a burger one time, and my dad slapped me in the mouth for laughing about it."

The boy piped up, "My father flicked me in the back of the head. He did not have really big manly hands, but it hurt a lot." He remembered his father's hands, curved to claws, reaching out for him. At a few mutters of concern, he gave himself a shake, and continued, "Thinking about it, he may have lifted weights with just his fingers, just to get them beefy enough to inflict maximum pain by flicking."

"Maximum pain..."

"By flicking, yes." Oliver stiffly nodded. A snicker burst out of his mouth, enticing his bench mates to laugh, too. If somebody were to walk by, they would find the bleachers alive with untamed laughter, finally able to be free to share a happy moment with others. He felt his smile widen as he listen to the girls adding their own humor to the mix. As always, his mind went back to his mother who had hoped for him to brighten those around him, even if it was over an overboard reaction to a corny joke. Instead of being weighed down from the thought, he felt a heavy pressure climb off his shoulders.

One of the girls whooped, and flew off the bleachers. They watched her dart across the yard, and into the hostel, quieting for a few worried murmurs. Another girl, however, hollered, "She just pissed herself!"

They began to laugh uncontrollably again.

* * *

 _A.N.- Huge hoard of (crazy) girls- I dunno. Maybe they're OCs? Maybe they're ladies we already know and love! Use your imagination, unless otherwise stated._

 _Siegmund- 2p!Prussia. Kuro- 2p!Japan._


	10. My chap titles are off a number :))) (9)

_"Go shopping with us."_

 _"All right. I need new clothes, anyway."_

Oliver picked up his head from the clothing rack he was rummaging through to eye the girls chattering loudly. The cashier was giving them rotten eyes from the front counter. They finally quieted from the man's glare, and gave each other sly glances as they pawed through the selections. "This store drags," one said. "I can't find anything decent to wear. I'll look like a whore if I wear any of this."

Another one snickered, "I don't mind." She gasped when she found something to her tastes. She pulled out two shirts, putting each of them against her chest, looking uncertain. "What do you think?"

"You're the one that is going to wear them."

The girl posing with the shirts sighed. "Oliver!"

"Yes, I am right here," Oliver called from being halfway submerged inside a clothing rack.

"Which one should I buy? I don't have enough money for both."

He straightened, surveying the tops for a moment before diving back into his search. "If I were you, I would chose the blue top. It matches your eyes."

The girls glanced at each other before turning away from him, trying their best not to erupt into more giggles. Oliver kept quiet, turning to a different clothing rack, but did not find anything suitable for himself. As he watched the girls do that strange whispering and snickering they usually do, he felt like there was something more present than simple gossiping.

"Oh, hey," one of the girls barked, startling him. "We got to go to the next store over after this. That's where the others are."

"That is fine."

"It's mostly all make up and cosmetics, though. I don't know if you needed anything from there, so..."

"Oh." Oliver grimaced, putting the shirt he pulled out back on the rack. The girls were fierce but loyal companions, but some low part of him yearned for the rough and down to Earth company only another boy would offer, without worrying over silly things like what color of eyeliner went with their lipstick. It was just another silly thought that zipped through his mind. He did not know what or who could offer better than they do. He lied, "T-there is some other place I wanted to check out for a tad bit, anyway."

They cheered up. "Really? Good! We can meet back up at the House."

Oliver left the thrift store with only one bag of socks, ties, and candy from the main counter. He glanced into the windows of the other stores, but they did not show anything worth entering as of that moment. He did not stop any of the pedestrians, walking with their heads down, to ask what was of interest. They would not tell him, anyway. Pastel pink and blue stripes of another shop's awning caught his eye, and he glanced up to the colors popping in comparison to the adjacent buildings.

The door swung open from someone giving it a rough shove as they breezed past Oliver. The scent from inside the shop erased any thought for a moment. He stood, paralyzed, deeply inhaling the warm smells as the door closed. He lunged forward, and pulled it open to step inside. Even the floor tiles were a lovely pale color, and he could say, as strange as it was, that the atmosphere welcomed him.

Nobody was behind the counter, and Oliver did not know whether to go up to it, or sit at one of the light blue tables along one wall. He awkwardly stood by the entrance, taking more whiffs of the scent that made his mouth water like a starving dog. A loud clattering ran beneath his feet, and he hurried to the counter, worried for the dropped object. A short elderly woman shuffled from the kitchen doorway behind the counter, sighing as if she were exhausted. She picked up her head and gazed at the boy with slate eyes.

"Uh..." Oliver did not know what to say. "You all right?"

The old woman seemed taken back from the question. "To be honest, no. May I ask of your help?"

Oliver did not hesitate. "Yes, of course."

She cracked a toothy grin, causing the wrinkles behind her round glasses to crinkle further. "I have just made four dozen cupcakes for a business meeting of some sort, so there is a lot of dishes to wash. If you help me, I will see that you walk out with more money than you walked in with."

"I can do that!"

"Good. You may put your bag on one of the tables there."

The boy crept into the kitchen with his eyes jumping around the plastic bowls littering the counter to the great mountain of dishes in the sink, spilling into the other basin. A few utensils were scattered on the floor. As Oliver tackled the mess, he contemplated what to buy with even more money. He was tempted by the bakery's scent to purchase something from there after the counters were wiped. Oh, what a marvelous thing that earning money was!

The elder was there, too, watching Oliver diligently work from the corner of her lens. When the laborious job was finished with both of their efforts, the boy wiped his forehead in playful exhaustion, flashing a bright grin. She noted, "You put plenty of effort into what you do."

Oliver tried his best to be humble. "Why, thank you, ma'am."

"My name is Anabella."

"Thank you, Anabella."

"You may call me Bella."

"A-all right."

The old lady was pulling his legs, evident in her own cheeky smile as she turned for the front room. After digging around the cash register, she cupped her hand against the boy's, leaving a healthy sum behind.

Oliver exclaimed, not able to help beaming at the money, "Thank you, Bella!"

"Thank _you,_ young man. It is nice to have someone who tries around here. What is your name?"

"Oliver."

"Would you like something to eat, Oliver?"

"Oh, please, yes!"

Anabella reached inside the display case resting on the counter, and plopped a large chocolate muffin in his open palms.

"Wow!" Oliver slightly faltered, "How much is this going to be?"

"Just eat it," Anabella said. "If you ever want more, come by, and I will give you something to do."

Oliver gasped, his expression brightening once more. "Really?!"

"What, you want me to say, 'Gotcha!' and laugh at you?" She twisted a dishrag in her hands. "Go on, get out of here, and make sure you come back."

"Y-yes ma'am, ah, Bella."

Anabella flicked the towel at his back, making the boy hurry out the door with his treat. He bounced down the sidewalk, not caring how the pedestrians swerved away from him. Oliver shot across the street when the light down the road turned purple for vehicles to stop. However, a car turned anyway, whipping around the corner. He gasped in fright, and leaped back, cramming the muffin in his mouth.

The car zipped by without so much as a honk, and Oliver stared after it, the lower half of the pastry crumbling onto his hands. He hopped onto the other walkway, pausing to inhale the left over dessert, and put a hand to his racing heart. He wondered what was inside the delectable treat. It was rich, dark, and indulgent; nothing like his mother's light desserts. He certainly would not mind going back for more.

Oliver hurried back to the House, back to his bedroom, so he would not be almost ran over again. When he reached the near end of the hallway, he set down his bags to fish for his keys. A door from the opposite end of the corridor opened, revealing heavy feet and deep laughter. At the sight of another person, the laughter died.

"Hello, Lutz, Siegmund," Oliver called before the brothers could go downstairs. They stopped, staring with shocked gazes. "Are you going outside? It is a lovely day out."

"Uh, hey, Oliver," Lutz grunted, looking fatally uncomfortable. "That's the Italian winter, I suppose."

"Just a tic, you two." Oliver knelt beside his bag, rummaging for something good. Siegmund ran a nervous hand down the pony tail resting on his shoulder, giving his brother a puzzled look. Lutz shrugged, shuffling closer to the other teen. "Here," the boy shook his closed fists to gesture for them to hold their hands out. They did, twitching as if grenades were going to drop in their palms. Two wrapped candies fell instead.

The brothers stared at the sweets, holding them to their eyes like apes gawking at diamonds. Siegmund made a breathy gasping sound, before lashing out a pale hand, and snatching his sibling's piece. "Wha...?" Lutz seemed confused to why his candy was suddenly gone. "Hey!" He barked, pelting after his brother, who flung himself down the stairs. Their heavy stomps reverberated through the floorboards, until Miss Warden's voice snapped in a scolding manner.

"Oliver, hey, Oliver!"

The boy let out a small sigh, wanting to put up his aching feet from walking around town all day. He faced the speaker, smiling anyway, since it was one of the girls from the bleachers. "Hello, dear. Do you need something?"

The girl padded up to him, her hands fumbling as if she were nervous. "The others were wondering you wanted to tag along for another shopping spree. We're taking the bus to the next town over, and raiding the supermarket. Are you up for it?"

"I could always do more shopping," Oliver nodded thoughtfully. "What time were you thinking?"

"Sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"That is good. I will be able to work first, and get paid, so I can buy some more bits and bobs."

"Work?" The girl raised her eyebrows at potential gossip. "You landed yourself a job? Where?!"

Oliver giggled at her enthusiasm. "There is this bakery within walking distance-"

" _The Queen's Cupcakes_?"

He faltered from her worried expression. "Why, yes. I helped the owner clean up her kitchen after a large order, and she must have liked what I done."

"I'm not sure, Oliver. Don't you think she's a little...odd?"

Oliver plucked his bag from the floor to straighten out offense hinted on his face. "I only met her once, so I suppose I have to find out for myself."

"All right, I guess. At least you have a job." She dropped the subject. "Tomorrow, meet us on the bleachers!"

"Yes, after work."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The next day, "Pinch the bag from the top, not the bottom. Use your lower hand to guide the icing where to go."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bella." The old baker chuckled to herself as she scooped out fresh cupcakes from their tray.

"Of course- oh!" Oliver clenched the full pastry bag too hard, making the frosting fly out in ripples onto the cupcake and counter.

"That is all right, Oliver. Messes can be cleaned up. That will your cupcake." While her back was to him, the boy licked the icing off the treat, and squeezed more onto the top. Something thumped softly against his head, and he flinched, clamping a hand on the offended area. "I caught that, young man," Anabella set the carton of eggs she wielded on the counter, but her gray eyes twinkled with amusement. "I am glad you enjoy my baked goods so much. Perhaps you would do well to know how to make your own."

"Yes! I would love that!" Oliver cheered. "My mum and I used to make scones all the time!" Anabella stared, and he realized how stupid his wide smile felt. "S-sorry-"

The elder turned to click her eggs against a large bowl, but her quiet laughter rose above the crackling sounds. "Do not apologize for being different. After all, that would be hypocritical of me to condemn you for expressing your happiness."

Oliver shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to look dignified. Bella continued, "Things were different then...people were nasty, more so then they are today, believe it or not. When I was a young girl, around your age, if I remember correctly, everyone would call me this silly name. What was it? S...yes, a smiler. You do not even had to smile to be considered one. It also meant you were an outcast, different and shunned from the rest of the crowd, but calling someone a smiler was easier."

The boy stiffened, his eyes flickering toward her ramblings. "A smiler?" He grimaced at the feeling falling to his stomach, as if he insulted himself.

"The boys would ask me, 'What do you have to smile at so much?' and the girls would not let me sit with them during meals, saying I was too strange. Of course, everyone bit their tongues when they realized what a beautiful woman I became."

They shared a light bout of laughter. Oliver quipped, "If that is the key, then I pray that I do not have to wait long."

Anabella slowly waved a shaky hand. "No need. You are already a handsome young man. I would not be shocked if you attracted all the little ladies into the shop when they find out you bake." When Oliver did not say anything, opting to make his peak of icing perfect, she added, "Or all the cute boys."

The elder was prized with a confused look in her direction. "You said all these boys and girls used to make your youth difficult. Where did all this take place?" Oliver quickly added, "If you mind me asking."

"Difficult?" Bella echoed. "We used to call it the House, back in my day."

The pastry bag slipped from Oliver's hands, and onto the cupcake he was working on. "Oh, sorry." He fumbled, and wiped the frosting that got onto the bag, doing his best at shakily touching up the damaged icing.

Bella put a hand on his shoulder. "It is not the best place to make friends."

Oliver could feel the guilt radiating on his face, and meekly nodded. "To be honest with you, I had no interest in even trying when I first arrived. Some of those kids are harsh and rude."

"Of course. You have those kinds all over the place, but some of them are only following the pack."

The air grew quiet. The boy uncertainly broke it, "Bella? I am finished." He stepped away to display his work.

"Well done," Anabella nodded approvingly. "That will be it for you today. If there is anything left in the pastry bag, put it in the refrigerator, and I will give you your pay."

Oliver did as he was told, and snatched his cupcake off the counter. He wanted to make it last, but his little nibbles became unhealthy chomps, and the treat was down his throat before Anabella turned from the cash register to see the sloppy sight. The boy thought that if he had his own bakery, he could eat as many cupcakes as he pleased.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

It was pleasant, indeed. Between the girls' company and lively gossip, and back and forth from the bakery, Oliver was feeling much less bitter about living in the House. Many sunsets later, when he slunk into the main hall from a robust day at the bakeshop, Miss Warden remarked, "You have been disappearing for long periods of time."

The boy skittered a stop in front of her desk. "I found somewhere to work."

She peeked over her book. "Is that right? Well, if it is an honest living, then that is more than a lot of these kids make of themselves. How long have you been at the grind?"

Oliver smiled as he fiddled with his hands. "Almost a month, ma'am."

Miss Warden made a thoughtful noise. "I can tell you have been spending a lot of time in the library as well. I thought my books were going to grow cobwebs." Despite her light words, her face remained like stone. She leaned over, opening one of her desk drawers, and placed a tattered book on the edge closest to Oliver. "Since you take a liking in reading, try this one. It is the only book in this building that is not non-fiction...that I know of."

Usually, books were printed under government regulation, but the cover flap had scrawled letters. Oliver took the book tentatively, peering inside to see everything was hand written. It was rare to catch talk of fiction and fantasy, let alone to hold a work of such in one's hands. He wondered if he was somehow breaking the law by accepting the temptation. "I do not think I ever heard the name Shakespeare before."

"Of course you have not. Not many do. He was a famous playwright in his day, though not the good kind of famous. Not everyone fancied the fact he used such vulgar jokes, and indecently poked at the follies of society."

Oliver like the play before he even read a line from it. The phone on Miss Warden's desk chittered loudly, snapping both their attentions. "This is Warden's Youth Hostel. What is the purpose of your calling?" The old woman's eyes widened in the slightest. "Yes, there is plenty of room. Hm, is that so? All true."

He gave himself a shake when he realized he was listening to a private conversation. Not wanting to be rude, Oliver turned to the hall. He slowly walked away, trying to read and move at the same time.

"I will be waiting." Miss Warden roughly set the phone on its receiver. "Oliver? Where did that boy run off to? Oliver!"

Oliver back tracked to the front room. "Yes?"

"I was not finished with our talk."

He obediently sat in one of the seats. The elder continued, "Now, the language of Shakespeare is far outdated, so there will be things that may be detrimental. If you need assistance, do not be afraid to ask for it. Your curiosity will not be punished."

"Thank you."

Miss Warden acknowledged his words with curt nod. She folded her hands together on her desk. "On a different subject, I am expecting a visitor. The hostel has not received any new children in a month."

"That is nice to hear," Oliver quipped, unsure why the elder was telling him those things. Perhaps she was lonely as he once was, since he never saw any of the other kids speak with her, unless they were getting scolded. "That is good, right?"

"It depends how you interpret the situation. Youths seem to be leaving more than they are coming in. Then again, consider the area's declining birthrate. There are more older citizens than younger ones. That is not what concerns me."

Oliver gripped his armrests. He wondered what could possibly concern Miss Warden.

"Our potentially newest addition has been repeatedly sacked from his previous residents."

"Sacked? People have been hitting him?"

As if it were possible, Miss Warden's frown deepened. "No, he has been evicted, thrown back onto the streets."

"Oh, that is horrible."

"How do you suppose so? The callers told me it was for the sake of the other children."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "That bad?"

"Apparently. The local police figure a stay overseas will clear his mind. Things are handled differently here. People do not feed into stupidity as they do there. Perhaps time in my residence will have an affinity to tame youngsters. Some say it weakens them."

"Why?" Oliver's nose curled. "Kids are considered lame for enjoying their youth and themselves?"

"Supposedly." Miss Warden rapped her hands on the desk. "Oliver, we can go on for the rest of our lives trying to explain why people are the way they are, but that would not do anything beneficial to us, or society. It is getting late. I suggest going to bed now, and we will see what this newcomer brings us."

* * *

 _A.N.- Anabella- OC._


	11. Chapter 10

It was amazing. Oliver had stragetically sat against a tree between the House's back windows and the rear gate so he could be left to drown himself in ficticous words. He stared at the last page with a distant gaze, slowly craning his head up to the sky. The boy rested a hand on the book's cover, understanding why people condemned free expression. One would never get enough, and he certainly was craving more.

"I do not believe it," he murmured to the clouds. "She was only thirteen." Oliver realized he was smiling for too long when his cheeks began to hurt. He heaved himself to his feet, and the blood flowed back in his legs. "I need to find more books. No," the teen gasped, "I have to!"

After stepping into the stuffy dwelling, Oliver set off to Miss Warden's desk. Surprisingly, the old woman was not there, so he put the book on top of the morning's newspaper before heading back outside.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Books? Golly gee, I have books! Take a look around, little guy, you might just find something you aren't looking for!"

A few blocks from the House, Oliver took a step away from the bookstore's counter. Not only did the overly enthusiastic man startle him, the curled clump of hair sticking over his head that moved like it was its own entity did, too. "Ah, thanks, Mister..."

"Wolfgang!" The man sang from between the book shelves lined throughout the cramped shop.

"Ha-ha," Oliver said very dryly, and tore his eyes from the bright orange hair on the book keeper's head, obviously dyed. Too bad he forgot to color his eyebrows as well. The teen weaved through the shelves which were stuffed with nonfiction works. _Dog Care. How to Maintain Your Weight, for Stupid People. The Noble History of the Sock._

Oliver grumbled to himself, "To think I walked all the way here...Wait, did that book _really_ say that in the title?"

Wolfgang popped out from the end of the aisle. "You have been whispering to yourself for ten minutes now! Is there a specific work you are looking for?"

"Yes, actually, I am. Do you carry any fiction literature?"

The man pushed up the glasses slipping down his nose, and appeared to become afraid. His voice dropped to a whisper, "We do. Come, come." He swished a hand, leading Oliver to a curtained doorway in the back of the store. He pushed the dark drapes out of the way, ushering him to a cramped storage room. Two metal shelves held large boxes labeled in a foreign language, but nothing more. Wolfgang scanned each cardboard package, and pointed to one up top. "Right there is what you are looking for...all your fictitious needs."

Oliver noted, "That is rather high up." He looked to the book keeper, but he had already ducked out of the storage room, probably to scowl at himself in a hand held mirror like he was doing when the boy entered his shop. He tipped his head back to the large and possibly heavy box, gulping at the thought of it crashing onto his face.

He stood on his toes, but could not grab the box, so he latched on the layer of withered tape dangling from it, and yanked it right off the shelf. Oliver stumbled backward to catch it, shocked to find it much lighter than he thought. The books inside did not appear to be books at all. Some covers were hand drawn, ranging from strange scribbles to masterpieces, while others had theirs missing. What made them superior to works of non-fiction, however, was that they contained beautiful drawings to emphasize the plot, instead of boring graphs and illustrated instructions.

Some of the novels had people or backgrounds on the front. Oliver stopped digging, and his entire visage ignited to a furious flush at the sight of an admittedly well drawn couple doing something more friendlier than hugging. He turned the book over, so he could not see the cover as he further excavated the selection. There were stories offering space exploration and fighting aliens, while others were simple slice of life.

Oliver paged upon a collection of illustrations he never saw before of plants, symbols, and strange animals. He recognized a few chimera, including the cat-monkey which he gave his apple. He gasped with sudden realization, "These are magic symbols! This is a book of spells! Oh, I am so trying this!"

Suppressing an embarrassing squeal of delight, Oliver flipped the notebook closed, and pressed it against his chest as he rummaged through the rest of the pitiful collection. His gaze landed on the book he was gawking at earlier, and with a quick hand, as if he were stealing gold, he shoved it behind the magic book. The teen left the box on the ground, rushing to the counter.

Wolfgang was leaning back on a stool, nodding approvingly at his freshly clipped nails. "Did you find something of interest?"

Oliver set the mystical notebook on the counter, and nonchalantly hid the other one behind his back. "I did."

The man snatched the book, and flipped through the pages. He recoiled, hissing, and the thin atlas tumbled onto the checkout counter. Wolfgang brought a finger to his mouth, swishing his other hand at the boy. "Just take that cursed thing away. Nobody ever bothers with them, anyway."

Wolfgang spun on his chair, and hopped off, running into the nearest bookcase. He spat in a different tongue, to scorn the shelf, before disappearing in the direction of the bathroom. Oliver shrugged, taking the pamphlet that was now his, and eagerly fled the cramped shop with his stolen books. He would have peeked at the pages while walking, not wanting to wait, but the walkways were busy. He had to slip the precious works under his vest to protect the delicate drawings from the eyes and arms of careless passersby.

Oliver almost sprinted to the House, but running was dreadful, so he opted for a near jog, that still wound up hurting his legs by the time he turned to the correct street. He slowed, stopping before the fence encasing the property began. Several black cruisers were stationed outside the front gate, the lights on top of them loudly whooping as the cars' engines were cut. The teen pressed to the fence, peeking at the police officers climbing out of their vehicles.

He drew a sharp, frightened inhale, gripping his books tighter. The boy turned on his heel, opting for the rear gate instead. He made it to the side of the House, and peered pass the wood panels to the see the double doors bust open. Somebody was struggling, based on incoherent yelling and the way a pair of police officers lingered by the entrance, staring at something Oliver could not yet see. He shrunk back when the House's main door creaked open, and Miss Warden emerged to meet the cops.

She stopped halfway across the lawn, looking stiff backed as she did the first time the teen saw her. A tall, gangly boy slipped pass the police, stone faced as she was. The only difference was that his eyes, the pinnacle of expression, were hidden behind shades greatly contrasting the ragged clothes clinging to his broad body. Oliver wondered if he was the problem child, but the other boy had stationed himself beside Miss Warden quietly and oddly gracefully. His rugged outlook and overgrown ponytail were only that, an outlook.

The blond's shoulders heaved, as if he sighed heavily, but the sounds were drowned out by the growls and obscene language a snappy voice tossed around as if he did not know any other, more appropriate words. Oliver cupped a hand over his mouth. Two more officers came last, both roughly towing another teen by his arms.

"Fuck!" The boy roared, wreathing relentlessly, as if he had a chance to overpower his captors. "Quit manhandlin' me!"

The officers simultaneously unhooked their grip, only to shove him. The teen stumbled forward, arms flailing, almost into Miss Warden. She took a single step back, and the other boy grabbed him, breaking his stumble. The rowdy one whipped around, and yelled, "Fuck the police! Fuck all y'all!"

His companion hissed something, but the grip on his arms did not deter the boy's vulgar mouth. The police officers pointed and laughed. One even said, "Have fun with that. It sounds pretty tiring."

The brunet let out a furious snarl, and threw his hand up, middle finger extended from his fist. Oliver did not see the gesture before, but he had ideas what it meant. Miss Warden latched onto the fluffy collar of the teen's jacket, and yanked him back with surprising force. Even the blond boy stared after her in shock. She did not look back as she zipped toward the House. With a rough smack to the obnoxious one's back, both boys begrudgingly followed her. The officers lingered, staring at the building, and grumbled to themselves. The holsters attached to their hips did not look promising, so Oliver slipped away, using the back door to avoid confrontation.

He pulled his books from his vest, gazing fondly at the cover of the magic book while keeping the other one well hidden beneath it. He almost walked into the wall on the other side of Miss Warden's desk. She was in the middle of interrogating information from the newcomers, such as their names, but the loud boy kept talking over the other one, claiming he was a long lost son of a hotdog god. Oliver shook his head with his amused smile, and fled up the stairs.

The world lost him to his books, eagerly devoured until the sun fell. He slid out of his warm bed, and groped the wall for the light switch when it became too difficult to read through the darkness. The light flickered, and popped, no longer working. "What! No, I was at the part where they were just about to kiss!"

With a fearsome growl, Oliver threw open his bedroom door, and marched down the steps. Miss Warden was still in her seat, chewing a dinner roll. She arched her thin brows as he stood in front of her desk. "What is it, Oliver? Are you sick? Your cheeks are all pink."

"My bedroom light went out."

The elder sharply sighed, rising from her seat, and her supper.

"W-wait, you do not have to worry about it now," Oliver claimed, catching the delicious smells of her food. "I am going to eat. I will fetch a light bulb when I get back."

"Be careful," Miss Warden said, taking her seat again. "You might ask me for headache pills, too."

Oliver tossed a confused glance over his shoulder. Brushing it off, he pushed open one of the dining hall's doors, only getting more antsy at the collective scent of dinner. The boy hurried to the buffet line, grabbing more than his usual, and almost spilled his plate all over his table when he sat down too quickly. His hands trembled excitedly, for food, and for his books. The novel was engaging, but the atlas of otherworldly creatures and plants made his thoughts wander. Some of the spells inside stemmed from symbols drawn on the ground with ink, chalk, or if he was feeling bold, blood. Summoning, teleportation, healing; all them sounded promising. He found out that he could even draw energy from other living things to aid his magic endeavors! He was dying to try them. However, he had to make sure he would not die trying them.

The boy stopped munching on his blue beans as the table shook when another tray plopped onto its surface. His eyebrows furrowed, and he slowly looked from his food to the invader. The other teen flopped onto the bench across from Oliver, staring back with intense scarlet eyes. This was the same boy that emerged with the police officers, kicking and screaming violently. He could mean a lot of trouble!

Yet Oliver blurted, "What are you doing?"

"I'm here to eat." The other boy did just that, grabbing his plate, and tipping it to his face, using his fork to shovel it all in his mouth. Oliver could only stare in shock at the disturbance. His company lowered his platter with a contented sigh, it almost as clean as it would be if freshly washed. "Man, I haven't had a meal like that in weeks!"

"Erm, okay?" Oliver did not know what to say. He glanced around the dining hall, but none of the girls were around this late, so he could not make a lighthearted excuse to get away from the strange boy when he had a near full plate. "Why did you sit here, of all places?" There were so many other, unoccupied seats.

He did not reply until his milk carton was drained. He slammed that on the table as if he completed a drinking contest, and loudly smacked his lips. "All these other fellas are sittin' wit' their pals, an' you were by yourself. I was by myself, so...yeah."

"Oh," Oliver exclaimed in feign sincerity, "how thoughtful of you."

The other teen wiggled in his seat, giggling deeply, touched. "Haw, haw, well, I do try."

"You made the entrance for yourself earlier."

"You saw that?" The oddball widened his eyes. "Ah, well, I have you know I don't like cops. I hate 'em. They're suppose to protect people an' the law, but they just do whatever they want because they got guns an' a badge. They're all corrupt."

"All right," Oliver weakly replied. He could be in a criminal's presence! This other teen was repeatedly kicked out of his other homes, too.

"Don't look like that. I got nothin' against you."

"I would hope not."

The other teen had the audacity to crack a grin, and proclaim, "My name's Allen!"

Oliver looked up from his plate in surprise. "H-hello."

"Well? What's yours?"

"Oh. Oliver."

A furious nod. "All right!" Allen fell silent, thoughtful, but the action seemed to stress him out. "You go by Ollie?"

"Pardon?"

"Is yo' nickname Ollie?"

"I do not have a nickname. Everyone has simply referred to me as Oliver."

"Not everyone!" Allen claimed, still smiling stupidly.

"Well, yes, of course." Oliver wondered for a brief moment if the boy across from him had gotten a hold of Miss Warden's medicine cabinet. His behavior was so different, being around other teenagers rather than police officers. "You are finished with your food," he pointed out. "Do you have bags to unpack?"

Allen did not seem to understand the hint. "Nah, I came here wit' just the clothes on my back!"

"Is there anything _else_ for you to do?"

"Come on, I'm just bein' friendly."

Oliver gritted his teeth, mashing the vegetables that were in his mouth. He gulped to shoot back, "That is hard to come by around here."

Another bout of strangled laughter. "Yeah, I guess, wit' all these crazy Italians. Man, o' all places..." This _American_ thought Italians were crazy- what a joke! Also, that meant there were two of them running around at that moment. Perhaps Oliver should take up Miss Warden's offer of those headache pills in advance.

While he was there, Oliver decided to ask, "Who was that other boy that came with you?"

Sounding so proud, Allen claimed, "That's my bro!"

"Your bro?"

"Yeah, my bro, Matt."

"Right." As soon as the last morsel was off his plate, Oliver shot from his seat, bustling over to the trash bin. He did not glance back to see the look on the other boy's face. Miss Warden had a light bulb sitting on her desk, waiting for him. "Ah, thank you."

"Anything else?"

Oliver gave her a tight lipped smile. "None of the sort...wait a tic, there is something. Do you have any chalk?"

"Chalk?" Miss Warden suddenly snapped. "No, I do not have any chalk, and you better not either."

The teen's face fell, giving his head a little shake. "Chalk is-"

"Messy, and powdery. One stick can be used to vandalize an entire wall. I will not allow it on this property." The elder cracked open her book, finalizing the conversation.

Oliver sheepishly took the bulb, and scurried up the steps. He considered sneaking it in, giggling at the possible crime. Somebody leaped from the corner where the halls met, and he gasped, almost dropping the light bulb. "What are you laughing at?!"

He slapped a palm to his chest, giving Luciano a well deserved glare. "I am laughing at stupid you look with that face."

Luciano stopped baring his teeth, and propped against the wall with his arms crossed.

"How long have you been waiting for someone to pass by?"

The other boy dropped his gaze to his holey sneakers rubbing against the floorboards. "Not that long. I already got Kuro, but he just stared at me."

Oliver tried not to laugh, failing miserably, based on the scowl on Luciano's face. "Since you have nothing better to do, will you do me a favor?"

Even with the nasty look, Luciano could not help the curiosity flashing in his eyes. "Depends what it is."

"I need chalk, but I do not want Miss Warden to find out any of us brought some through those gates. Would you happen to be able to get several sticks into my room without anyone else knowing?"

"You want...chalk? Seriously? I thought you were going to ask me for a shiv, or something useful-"

"This is useful," Oliver insisted when it seemed that Luciano would turn away. "I will not be wasting your time, unless you refuse and go back to...hiding around corners."

Luciano fixed his mouth in an angry pout. "What do you plan on giving me?"

Oliver pointed to the ground. "New shoes, perhaps?"

The other teen's eyes widened, now interested. "New shoes for several flimsy pieces of chalk?"

"If they are the good kind, yes. Preferably a whole box, if you may."

"Chalk must be that important to you then."

"The sound of your soles flopping all over the place is sickening, as well."

Luciano crinkled his nose, trying not to smile. "Of course. I'll get you your chalks. I will be looking forward to my new footwear." He did not hesitate to slip by Oliver, and head for the stairs.

"Take it, and give it right back at them," Oliver mused to himself. "How did you like that one?"

* * *

 _Author's Note- How am I doing so far?_

 _Wolfgang- 2p!Austria. Two bros; Allen- 2p!America. Matt-2p!Canada. Creative names FTW._


	12. Chapter 11

Lately, Anabella had left the baking to Oliver. The customers did not complain, as they were still receiving delectable treats. She would disappear into the basement for a concerning amount of time. It was not uncommon to hear other indistinct voices with hers, but the boy was too frightened to anger her by snooping. She could whip a wooden spoon at surprising speeds!

Oliver was curious ever since she emerged from the basement, panting from the steps, and from the cooler she was lugging. The boy quickly turned back to his batter, pretending he did not see the elder waddle to the front room and carry the mystery to her car. Anabella had announced she was running errands, leaving him to look after the bakery. That was a bigger responsibility than finding out what was inside the cooler.

Again, she was in the basement. Oliver bristled at the unmistakable sounds of coal tars hissing, but the door closed behind Anabella before any of them could escape. There was an order written in the reservation book, so he did not linger on any malicious intentions, excavating the fridge for ingredients. The batch of strawberry muffins was a quick and easy mix, but his boss had not surfaced when the batter was in the oven. He stared at the basement door, ears pricked for the muffled voices clattering below his feet.

The bell sitting on the front counter dinged loudly, as if harshly treated. Oliver was just in the doorway when the customer tapped it four more times. Biting back a rebuke, the boy called out, "What do you need, sir?"

The dull blond snapped, "My muffins."

Oliver blinked in surprise, feeling as if the stench of cigarettes coming from the man would fry his lashes from his eyes. "They are in the oven at the moment, but they will be out shortly-"

" _Hé?_ I wanted by muffins at two on the dot. I have work to do, too. I wrote it in your book for a reason." The stranger grabbed the booklet and twisted it so the boy could see.

"Oh, that is a two? I thought that said three." Oliver suggested, "Try to write more legibly next time."

The man dug at the scruff on his chin posing as a beard, gazing at the teen thoughtfully instead of getting agitated from his rudeness. He must have been used to it, and Oliver sort of felt a bit guilty. However, the boy needed fresh air from the stench, so he turned back to the kitchen. Footsteps thumped up the basement stairs, so he hurried to the cellar door to open it.

Anabella looked up, sighing in relief when Oliver ducked to grab the cooler she was struggling to carry. "Oh, many thanks to you, dear one."

"Bella, please, tell me if you need help next time. I do not mind helping you when you need it."

The elder huffed, catching her breath. She tightened her grip on the railing as a spooky laugh drifted from the dim lit room. Anabella met Oliver's frightened gaze. "Do not be certain of that. It is best to stay out of some things."

Oliver did not know what to say, stumbling back as she came forth and closed the door. "I-I put an order in the oven, but there is a foul mannered bloke waiting for it already."

"Strawberry muffins?"

"Yes," the boy trailed after her into the front room, but he swore that ominous laughter was still ringing in his ears.

Anabella called out, "You actually paid _me_ a visit? It looks like we are having a snowstorm soon!"

The man leaning on the counter straightened up, and his mouth turned upwards in the slightest tick. "I could not stay away," he claimed, bending forward to peck the old woman on both cheeks.

"I am so glad you stopped by." Anabella turned to Oliver, gesturing for him to surrender the cooler. The boy hissed when it bumped against his legs, icy, even through his trousers.

"I'm headed that way, anyhow." The man grabbed the cooler with one hand, but groped Oliver's arm with the other as they exchanged the goods. The teen yanked away, disgruntled from the hint of a smirk on his stubbly face. "Is this your charge?"

"Yes, Oliver," Anabella held a hand to the boy. "Oliver, this is my grandson, Louis."

Oliver blurted, "Why is he taking the cooler?"

Louis arched a neat eyebrow. "The little one does not know?"

Anabella hesitated, and Oliver felt stupid from the concerned look on her face. Her grandson said, "Bella, you want the bakery to keep going, _oui?_ You need to let him know."

They watched his departure, and once the door squeaked closed, the bakery fell silent. Oliver glanced to his boss expectantly, but she only said, "Here, I have leftover cupcakes that are getting old. Take them back with you. Wait, I will get you a tupplewear container."

"Thank you, Bella, for everything." He thought she did not hear him as she went into the kitchen, so when she returned to empty the display case, Oliver said, "Even if I do not know what else goes on, you work more than you should."

Both smiled sweetly; the boy said the right thing. "At my age, I may. I will not be able to...continue my work for long."

Oliver grasped the plastic container, and squeezed it to make the lid squeak. "I mean what I say, when I can help you." He met her surprised eyes. "With your bakery...and out of it."

The elder chuckled, further crinkling her face. "I do not doubt you, Oliver, but if you wish to do so, I rather you stay after you know what else is done around here." She stared at her worker with an intensity that stilled him. "The next time I get an order, you will help me, and I am not entailing baking into it. Take your cupcakes, and go now. Everything else is complete for the day."

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he hurried down the sidewalks. He remembered asking himself what he would do if Anabella had a drug trafficking ring underground. Oliver thought of her sweet grin, not afraid like anyone else, and banished the suspicious thoughts. He looked up, realizing he was already walking along the tall wooden fence of the House.

Since Miss Warden was not at her desk, perhaps for a snack break, the boy set out for his bedroom, giving the container an excited squeeze. Anabella's cupcakes were more addicting than potato chips! The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he stopped a few paces from his bedroom door, gawking at the butt lifted in the air, belonging to somebody peeking under the frame.

"What are you doing?" Oliver barked, startling the other teen based on their clumsily scramble from the wall to his feet.

"Well howdy!"

Oliver huffed, puffed, and repeated, "What are you doing?"

Allen rubbed his neck with a nervous hand. "I was swingin' my key around, you know the one that old lady gave out when we get our rooms? Heh, yeah, um, I kinda swung a bit too much, an' it slipped outta my hand. When I bent down to get it, I accidently kicked it under yo' door."

"Oh." Of course _this_ guy out of all the strange kids had to kick his keys under _his_ own door. Was it coincidence, or was this other boy creeping? Oliver gave his head a little shake, banishing the thoughts as being inexplicably rude, something he loathed from other people, let alone himself. "Here I thought you were creeping around."

"Naw," the other teen shrugged, "Just lookin' fer my keys."

Oliver wished the others would smile like that. He dug in his front pocket for his own key, and unlocked his door. He only had to slightly open it to bend down and grab the key on the ground. Dropping it in Allen's outstretched palm, the boy asked, "You all right?" as the other stared, puzzled.

"Um, yeah, you know I was just wonderin' if you were plannin' on eatin' those cupcakes you got there."

Putting a defensive hand on the lid, Oliver claimed, "That _is_ why I am carrying them around."

"All of 'em?"

"There are only four."

"Oh." Allen made him feel like a snob ignoring a beggar. He jerked a thumb down the hall, about to say something, but Oliver beat him to it.

"I suppose, since you look as if you are going to pass on if I don't."

The other teen's eyes widened. "Really? You're gonna give me a cupcake?!"

Oliver's mind jumped to the time he sat in front of him in the dining room, and how unresponsive he had been to somebody that was just trying to be civil. "Yes...besides...I sort of walked out on you before. I had a lot on my mind. So, here," Oliver peeled away the lid

"Yeah, I could tell!" Allen grinned like he won the lottery. His legs danced as the baker held out the container for his selection.

"Oh, could you?"

"I could!" He grabbed one, not caring if he gotten icing on his fingers, and shoved the entire thing in his mouth. The wrapper was included, though that did not go down as nicely.

"T-the paper..." Too late; the treat was down the hatch. Oliver slapped his free hand over his mouth, half in disbelief, half in amusement. "You just..."

Allen cracked a chocolate coated grin. "What? It's too much of a hassle to get it off. Did you make those?"

"Err...no, Bella did."

He looked disappointed for a moment. "Bella?"

"My boss," Oliver replied patiently, clasping the lid back on its container.

"You got a job?"

"That is where I had gotten the cupcakes!"

"Really? Where?"

"There is a bakery, _The Queen's Cupcakes,_ down the block from here. We could always use more business." As an after thought, Oliver added, "Bring your friends."

"Um, yeah..."

"Or your brother, bring him."

"Sure, he might like that."

Oliver glanced to his door, wanting to see if Luciano delivered his chalk. "If you don't mind, I think I am going to bed-"

"Have you been here long?"

He clamped his mouth shut, and gritted his teeth. "Since the fall. Around there. Why?"

The other boy shrugged. "Just wonderin'! Can't I ask questions?"

"W-well, I..."

"Nah, it's fine. I guess." Allen scrunched his nose, and whether or not it is intentional, he was obviously offended. "Ev'rybody gotta be like that. I'll go now, if I'm botherin' you so much."

Oliver grabbed the other teen's bicep when he went to push by him. "Hey, wait." Allen's sneakers squeaked on the wood floors when he suddenly stopped and gave the baker an even more disturbed expression. "I apologize, all right? Usually I am not so irritable, but I am getting tired, and I have things on my mind."

"Things on yo' mind again?" Allen's smile returned. "There must be lots o' things happenin' in there!" He shrugged, going on when Oliver stared, dumbfounded, "Well, I guess it's on my part to say thanks."

Oliver relinquished the other boy's arm, and hovered closer to his bedroom door for refuge. "For what?"

"For givin' me a cupcake! That shit was slammin'!"

"Um...okay?" Whatever that meant!

"Oh, and you know...fer apologizin'. It takes certain kinds o' people to do that. So...yeah...thanks."

Oliver let out a small yet snooty exhale from his nose. "Well, my mother taught me manners."

"Wow! Really?"

"Uh...yes." The baker boy fiddled with the cupcake container's lid, and glanced down the hall as his company kept grinning like his face was frozen like that. His father had warned him that if he kept making a face, it would stick to that position forever. Allen must have been living proof of such occurrence. "I was going to head off to bed now, if you don't mind.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I gotta bother my bro, anyway." Allen twisted around on his heel, and began to saunter down the hall with a little wave. "See you 'round, right?"

"I am not going anywhere," Oliver said. He gripped his door knob, and repeated much more softly, much more forlorn to himself. "I am not going anywhere, am I?"

He scoffed at his gloom, and swung open his door, desperate to get inside after a long day. He bumped his hip against the door, and leaned on it when it was closed. The boy sighed contently at his cupcakes, and lifted the lid to take a quick inhale. He stiffened as something whistled in the air, squeezing the container as the object embedded itself into the door. Without breath, Oliver's hand shot for the light switch, and gawked at the figure in his room. "Luciano? Did you just...?" He looked to his right, at the blade sticking out of the paneling. "Did you just throw a knife at me?"

"No, it was the boogeyman." The Italian rolled his eyes. "You scared me. I thought some creep was coming in, but then again, I was kind of right."

"Oh dear, I forgot to laugh. That was too funny," Oliver growled, setting the cupcakes on his dresser. "It was not me, anyway. It was Allen creeping out there."

"Who?"

"Allen, one of those new arrivals. Came here with his bro?"

"Bro, Oliver? Ha, you mean that guy that looks like he just came from living in the woods for a year? I tried to talk to him, but he kind of just..." Luciano made a vaguely limp gesture. "Flavio says only gay people wear flannel, so maybe that's what is with him."

"I...I have not gotten the pleasure of meeting other brother. Yet." Now, Oliver was not sure he wanted to. " _Anyway..._ do you have what I asked for?"

"Have what? Oh!" Luciano reached in his pants pocket, and whipped his hand out, hurtling a box at Oliver. The other teen squeaked in surprise, and scrambled for it. "A whole box of it. Brand new, too."

"Wow, where did you manage to get this?"

"You expect me to tell you my secrets?"

"Never mind, it says the shop's name at the bottom."

Luciano's shoulders slouched. "You're kidding!" He shot forward, and snatched the box of chalks out of Oliver's hands. He lifted it to scrutinize the sticker, muttering several words Oliver did not understand. Surrendering the sticks, he grumbled, "Whatever. I borrowed them from that office shop down the road."

"Borrowing means you intend on giving the object back to whom or where you took it from."

"Which I am going to do, if you don't uphold your part of the bargain."

Oliver lifted his eyes from the box to the other boy's face, quirking a smile. "Of course. What shoe size do you take?"

"You have shoes here already?"

"I have a fair amount," Oliver quipped, kneeling to open the bottom drawer of his dresser. "These are the ones I no longer fit, most of them from my Mum when I first came here, but...let's just say they are more of her style rather than mine. I take good care of my footwear, so you should find them satisfactory in payment."

Luciano peered in the drawer, highly interested. "Hmm, I suppose they are better than the ones on my feet." He snatched a pair of dark loafers, and peeked at the size. "Oh, we almost have the same size. That makes it easier!" He gasped when his feet were wiggling inside the shoes. "They fit! There are no rips!"

"I told you that already."

The other boy faced him, looking touched. "Say, you know how to drive a good bargain." He hesitated a quick moment for Oliver to revel in the praise. "If you need something done, give me a heads up, even if it means kicking someone's ass."

"Thank you for the offer." Oliver noted, "I will keep that in mind."

With a nod, Luciano sauntered to the door, plucked the blade from the wood, and adeptly twirled it in his palm until it closed. "Well...later."

Oliver stared after the Italian's speedy departure in mild surprise. A grin cracked across his face as he gave the box of chalks a squeeze. Yet the cupcakes were calling louder, so he set the package down, and eagerly peeled the lid away. As he popped the treats in his mouth, the teen surveyed any potential drawing spaces in his room. The smooth floor boards underneath his bed sufficed, so after two cupcakes were devoured, one left for later, he slowly pulled his cot toward the middle of his room.

He cringed from the groans the bedframe was making against the floor, tattling of his plans. Oliver rummaged beneath the mattress for his book of magic, and eagerly flipped through the pages. He stopped, setting a hand on his desired picture. "Circle thing, with several lines going in opposite directions," he muttered to himself, scratching the chalk across the floor. He did not know what some of the symbols stood for, but they were present on the sigil for a reason, so he gladly sketched them. The boy rose to his feet, admiring his work.

"I have been studying this book for days! I am practically a wizard now!" Squaring his shoulders, Oliver held a hand out, gluing his eyes to the scrawled text in the book. Goose bumps erupted beneath his clothes, and he could feel the mysterious incantation flowing through his veins. His eyes sparkled with fascination as the circle caught the light from the ceiling, soon radiating with its own glow at Oliver's chanting. A ball of brightness intensified with his eager words, and a small gust of wind disturbed the chalk, destroying the circle, but leaving behind a brown object.

Oliver stared at the apple, holding his breath. He nudged it with his toes, and the fruit felt solid and legitimate against his touch. "It worked," he shakily laughed, and tossed the notebook on his bed to swoop down and grasp the object. The boy had moved too fast, and grabbed at his head whirling so suddenly. "Darn it. Of course it was not that simple."

"Wow! Is that your first time summoning something?"

The boy yelped from the voice in his ear, jolting backwards, and landed on his bed. A small figure fluttered into view, landing on his forehead. He fretfully laughed, "Lila, it has been only a few weeks, yet I miss you as if years passed."

Lila flew into the air, hovering over the open book. "Likewise, Oliver! It looks like we both been learning new things! _Magic: Light and Dark for Dummies?_ "

"Yes, it was quite the find. The crazy book keeper down the road was rather relieved to surrender this one. Good for us!"

The fairy glanced from him and the drawings and back. "Oliver, did you decide what kind of magic you are going to do?"

"Between the three available? I have only been drabbling with the symbols and sigils falling in the Neutral category. I read about Light and Dark magic, but I am not sure which one I should go for, since I can only do one."

"If you choose the dark stuff, your spell casting energy would come from other people's sins. It would only intensify the feelings."

"Yes, and the world is already dark as it is," Oliver turned the apple in his hands. "There are better things to do with Dark magic, however. How splendid would it be to become invisible, or shoot fire out of your palms?!"

"But you can heal people with Light magic." Lila glanced away when Oliver tipped his head at her insistence. "It's your choice. Either have their ups and downs, or you could stay with summoning Neutral objects."

"That is a good idea! Thank you, dear. You do not have to do what you do."

Lila shrugged, giggling lightly. "I know that! But I am not going to watch flowers bloom all day." She watched Oliver wedge the book underneath his mattress before pushing the bed back into place. "Did anything interesting happen when I was gone?"

"What would entail 'interesting?'" Oliver plopped onto the cot. The fairy zipped to rest amongst his mop of auburn hair. He sank his teeth into the apple, exclaiming as he chomped on it. "Wow! It tastes like any other!"

"It _is_ an apple. You did well, and it was your first summoning, right?"

Oliver tittered from her praise, "Yes. I have been studying, after all."

"Is that it? Have you been at your studies the whole time?"

"I have been working, too. Anabella, my boss, has something lined up aside from the baking business. I admit, I am a tad nervous of what are in these coolers that she has been transporting."

"That sounds like you have an unplanted seed in your palm."

The teen glanced down to his hands. "I do?"

"Yeah, silly! You do not know what will grow, if anything does, or you may not even plant the seed." Lila sighed, then muttered at his quiet confusion, "It's a saying of the fae. Do you plan on staying with your boss after you find out what is in the coolers?"

Oliver pulled his fruit from his face to ponder for a moment. "I do not have any other method of getting money at the moment. Besides, I like Bella. She takes care of me. We will see what happens."

Lila wiggled on his head excitedly. "Did anything _else_ happen?"

"I am not keen on that tone of voice you are using."

"I noticed you have new Housemates!"

"The twins? I hardly speak to them. They only came here a fortnight ago."

"Oh." The fairy sighed. "That's enough fooling around, I guess. You have been waiting for news of your mother, right?"

The moment Oliver had so impatiently waited for had fallen into his apple occupied hands at last. "Yes. Tell me about her. _Please._ "

"Oliver," Lila began, "It is not what you want to hear."


	13. Chapter 12

"Of course. Why would it be good news?" Oliver snorted, rising from his bed. Tossing the apple core into his trash bin, he turned to face the window and glare at the darkening skies. Lila grew quiet. He felt her shift through his hair, reminding him that she still had news to give. "What is it, however dreadful it may be?"

"I'll start off with something that is not so bad! Your mother is still around. Like, she is awake and alive as us."

Oliver's breath hitched, but before he let himself to get excited at his mother's wellbeing, he clamped his mouth shut. "What is the catch?"

"She is very far, far away in this isolated place from everyone else with all these other scary people."

"Prison? Aren't there are visiting rights-"

"No, there aren't. I snooped around, and anyone under eighteen are not allowed near the premises."

"What?" Oliver croaked. "No...since when?"

"Since they built the place? Sorry, Ollie, but that is not all." He kept quiet, sickened, as Lila continued, "Marionette is separated from the others. I think whoever locked her up found out she was...different from the rest."

"Why?" Oliver sneered, voice laced with malice, "Because my mother is a smiler?"

"Yeah, but that's only part of it!"

The boy winced from his friend's bluntness. "What is the other part?"

Lila collected her words in a moment of hesitation. "I stayed with her for a few nights. She leaves this world when she goes to sleep. The imprisoners tried awakening her, but Marionette must have frightened them with her internal chanting and thrashing."

"They think it is some kind of spasm, but she is really...?" Oliver ended on a questioning tone.

"Her spirit is my realm. I seen her here and there. It is her escape."

Oliver closed his eyes, releasing the breath he was holding. Tears snuck through his lashes, and ran down his cheeks.

"Oliver? Are you-"

A shaky sob interrupted her. She launched off his head when his shoulders shook, to hover before his face cupped in his hands. A tiny hand reached out and pressed against his knuckle. Oliver peeked between his fingers, and offered a hand for her to stand on. "That is fantastic news, Lila."

"Is it? It's the same place where your father died. Are you so eager to come back?"

"For my mum, yes!" Oliver wiped his dampened cheek with his free hand. "She has been frequenting the spot ever since?"

"Oh, around and about. She asked about you, too, but I did not give anything away!" The fairy grinned. "So you better get your butt in there, and go pay your mom a visit!"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Oliver whisked around, and Lila jumped from his palm. She hovered closely as he ripped his pajamas from the dresser, unable to button them in their proper holes. He leaped into his bed, knocking his foot on the wooden frame. The boy hissed from the pain, and escaped beneath his sheets.

Lila tugged on some of the loose creases, tucking them underneath Oliver before settling on his lumpy pillow. "I'm coming with!"

"Nothing would make me happier," Oliver nuzzled his face against the soft material, making last adjustments for comfort. "Well, besides finding my Mum again."

"I know that!" The fairy giggled, and plopped next to his head. "Sweet dreams, Oliver!"

The horror of his father's demise was squashed by the hope of seeing his mother again. The journey was much easier than last time, as he had a basic idea with experience of what to do. Oliver took a breath, his existence filling with a drifty sensation, and opened his eyes. Lila was there, flying from the ground to his hair. He sniggled at her light tugging. "Where to?"

"I last saw Marionette by the giant toadstools in the middle of that forest. Wait!" She yanked on a few clumps of the boy's hair when he set out for the trees. "It is really dark in there without the lights. They don't go in there because they don't like the spooky stuff among the trees."

"Spooky stuff? Lovely. I am not letting creepy crawlies get in the way of me and my mother." Oliver crossed his arms, and put a hand to his chin like the stance would bring a good idea. "If only I had some chalk in this Realm...I would be able to draw a summoning circle."

"Some of the flowers have dyes you could try using! I'll go get you some!" Lila said, zipping away. Oliver smiled after her departure, and went a little way in his own direction, nudging stones and turning rocks over with his feet, in case they were not what they seemed to be. He glanced toward the tree by the cliff side, not curious enough to investigate if the dark splatters were still on the grass. The fairy returned, weighted by several stems with purple bulbs on the ends.

Oliver held out his hands. "Allow me to carry those." His friend gave him a look of relief as he knelt in front of a flat boulder. He double checked if it was not a man eating stone. He squeezed the bulb of the first flower, and dragged it across the rough surface, making an entire circle until he needed a new flower. "I am going to summon a torch now."

"Ooh, to scare off all the spookies away from us when we go into the creepy, dark, and creepy forest?"

"Yes, I am. You said creepy twice."

Lila snickered. "I know!"

The boy stood, wiping some of the dirt and pollen from his hands. He held out a hand, and began chanting, substituting the ancient word 'apple,' used in his previous summoning spell, to 'fire,' since he did not know how to say 'flashlight' in the old language.

"Um, Oliver? I don't think you'll get what-" Lila gasped when the circle ignited in bright blue flames. Oliver was stunned, too, but a smile stretched across his freckled face as he lowered himself to his knees. He held an open hand out to the fire, making it dance to its master's touch.

"It was not what I intended," Oliver announced, rising to his feet with the collective flame waving in his hand, "but it will help just as well."

"Does...does it hurt? Is it hot?" Lila hovered closer with her hands out, not waiting for an answer. "It's not!"

"Let's make haste. I see no reason to hang out." Oliver's steps did not slow to be cautious as he bustled onward, tripping and catching any loose plants or pebbles. The fairy tightened her grip on his hair, her own tan locks billowing from the speed.

"Oliver? Are you okay?"

"Just peachy!" The boy's voice jumped as he tripped over a jagged stone. "I rather get through this...dark...scary...potentially full of monsters forest!" A growl rose from the shadows at the disturbance. The fire leaped as Oliver let out a shriek, and he pelted forward. The rough ground stabbed at his bare feet, since he did not go to bed with shoes, but his being was too busy buzzing with fear to notice. The fairy shot from his head as he phased through a tree that he should have collided with under calmer circumstances.

Lila cried out for him, zipping after his noisy tracks so she would not get left behind in the dark forest. "Oliver! Oliver, calm down!"

Oliver did not calm down, focused on the break of light through the twisting trunks. The fire he held blew out with a high wail from its wielder. Another tree rushed by, and the teen's foot caught on its root sticking out of the ashy soil. He tumbled to the ground, yelling, and launched away from the trees.

Enveloped in brighter surroundings, Oliver curled against the grass, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on not losing the dream completely. Lila flew out of the forest, catching up to his fallen body with a hand over her mouth. A second set of feet landed in the grass, and the teen tensed when a pair of hands rested on his shoulders.

"Oliver."

His eyes snapped opened, yet he remained in his protective ball, contemplating the gentle tones. When they called a second time, Oliver slowly pushed himself to his knees. The teal eyes staring back at his were slightly sunken in, and the auburn locks that used to touch the ground when sitting were now struggling to reach the other's shoulders while splayed at the ends. Despite the concave in her face from the subtle neglect, the boy immediately knew who it was. His vision blurred as his lower lip trembled, and he reached out to snake his arms around her body.

Delicate fingers tangled in Oliver's hair, pulling him closer. "Why are you crying, dear?"

Oliver sobbed, muffled from the fabric of the woman's ugly jumpsuit against his face. "I was scared."

"You do not have to be afraid anymore." The arms around his body constricted. " _My son."_

"Mum." Oliver could not suppress the bubbling sobs escaping his chest. His fingers dug in the dark blue fabric of the strange outfit she was wearing, never wanting to let her go again. The scents and touches of happier times embraced him, teasing the boy in their superficial ways. For the moment, he let his pride to crumble to dust, and hold onto his beloved mother, gasping for air and reassurance.

"Oliver," Marionette shifted to press an endearing kiss to the side of his forehead. They pulled away enough to look at one another's alike faces, and a twisty sensation knotted where Oliver's stomach would be when he saw that her eyes were also dappled with tears. "You managed to come to the Realm of Spirits all on your own!"

The boy's cheeks warmed with the praise. "I was not completely alone." He twisted to hold out an open hand. Lila landed on his palm, performing a quick bow.

"Hello, Lila," Marionette cooed. "It is lovely to see you again."

"Likewise!" The fairy chirped, but her kind smile faltered as she gave Oliver a worried look.

Oliver cleared the thickness from his throat, not able to keep a broad smile from his dampened face. "How are you, Mum? You all right?"

Marionette took her son's cheeks into her hands, using her sleeve to wipe the tears streaming down his chin. "Do not worry about me when you are more of importance, dear."

"Mum," Oliver's nose crinkled, "you are important. To me, at least."

"And me!" Lila put in.

"Then that is all that matters." Marionette coaxed her child into another embrace. "As long as you keep smiling..."

Oliver's eyes opened when the body holding him loosened its clutch. "Mum?" He gasped in alarm as her shape shuddered, and faded. He wailed and grabbed at her dissipating form, snagging at air. His hands drooped from reaching out to nothingness, and pondered for a moment if his mother was really there at all. He sniffled, wiping a new onslaught of tears away before his face was plagued once again with ugly splotches. Lila buzzed nearby, anxious from the negative emotions wafting in the air. "We should return to my world as soon as possible." The teen's steady voice startled her revolution around his head. "I have work in the morning."

As Oliver laid in the grass, closing his eyes to the weight of his friend resting on his forehead, he bit back a self inflicting insult when realization dawned on him. He had been caught up falling for the glimpse of happiness of seeing his mother again, he forgot to tell her of his father's death. He forgot to tell her she would be imprisoned forever, since the man would not return from his 'disappearance.'

A gray ceiling greeted Oliver when he awoke with a loud inhale through his mouth, returning to the outer reaches of his conscious mind. He shifted in the covers, getting a feel for solidarity before sitting up in his bed. A familiar buzzing rose from his pillow, and Lila hovered into view, looking at him with a usual smile. "Are you going to work now?"

The boy nodded. "I would not want to worry Bella by being uncharacteristically late." His mind was exhausted with thinking, but his body was ready to go as he passed through the dreary process of getting dressed for the day and silently arguing with his tie. "I should get a bowtie. Bowties would not treat me like this."

Oliver hurried out of his room, since he had places to go, and people to see. He fumbled with his lock, and as soon as the latch clicked, he twisted around to continue, but bumped into a solid body. "Oh, pardon me!" Lila snorted distastefully from the sudden whiplash, and shimmied back to her usual perch upon his head.

The other occupant revealed to be his neighbor, on his way back to his room. "Hmph, Oliver."

Some greeting. His neighbor's stare made him feel like a buffoon for smiling so broadly, so Oliver lessened to a calmer grin. "How are you doing? Is your stomach feeling well today?"

His company curled his lip, perhaps angry, perhaps in disbelief. "Why do you always have to ask me that?"

"I am genuinely curious. Is that not allowed?"

"You...well, I..." His neighbor looked away to glare out the window at the end of the hall. "Fine, I guess. I still have my breakfast. Is that good enough for you?"

"Plenty, thank you," Oliver shot back just as bitterly, even though he was not truly angry. "I will be off, then."

"Yeah, yeah..." His neighbor trailed off as if lost in thought. Oliver let him be, and continued down the hallway all the while Lila giggled from their exchange upon his head. There was a sudden holler, "Oliver, wait!"

Oliver skittered to a halt, and his eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. He slowly turned around, trying to downplay his silly grin. "Yes, what is it?"

"You...you seem like an all right, guy, okay, Oliver?"

"Do I? Why, I'm glad to hear it!"

"I'm not done talking yet," his neighbor scowled, and the baker shut right up. "You seem all right, so I might just allow you in on our little operations."

Oliver perked up, and took a few steps closer to the other teen. "Little operations?"

"Yeah, that's what we like to call them." A hint of a snarky grin played with his neighbor's face. "Sounds cooler that way. So, yeah, anyway, we're all growing men around these parts, right?" He continued even without confirmation, "We need lots to eat, but unfortunately, as swell and charitable it is for Miss Warden to lay out some food for us, don't you feel like it's just not enough?"

"I do not eat that much in the first place, to be honest with you. I always thought she gave us enough."

His neighbor ran his eyes down Oliver, and lightly snorted. "I can tell! I could mistake you for a skeleton, or one of those model girls if I saw you at a distance! But hey, I'm just looking out for you, yeah?"

Oliver's eyes widened as he nonchalantly wrapped his arms around his stomach. "You...you are?"

"Yeah, 'cause I was hoping that you might be interested in taking a run with us. I have a feeling that you could be of great use to us, and we could be great use to you. You know, that whole 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine' kind of thing?"

"O-oh? What were you planning?" Oliver felt a heavy weight sink into his tummy, like he should have not asked.

However, he never saw his neighbor looked so pleased with him, and Oliver swore he saw teeth with that smile. "Nothing too hard for you, Oliver. Some...acquaintances of mine and I were going to get a little extra to fill our tummies. What'd you say? You in?"

Oliver wondered why the other teen had to word it mysteriously. All he had to say was, "Hey, let's go get something to eat," and the baker boy was more than happy to oblige. Either way, someone wanted his personal company, he would be stupid to pass that up. "Of course! Anytime soon? I am afraid I am headed to work at the moment."

"Eh, after your work, sometime in the evening. Dusk is the perfect time to go on the prowl."

"All right!" Oliver's legs bounced, much more elated that moment than he had been when he gotten out of bed. "I look forward to it."

His neighbor turned toward his room with a narrowed look. "So do I, Oliver."

Once the front gate clamped shut behind Oliver, and he was more than willing to run, but only if it was to escape the steady drizzle that grayed the late morning skies. After carrying out his (un)usual life practices, it was uplifting to have slight weight clutching onto his hair, telling him he was not alone. During Lila's absence, he had realized he did not nearly have enough friends. His boss, and those girls he gossips around with are improvements from before, but the thought of being with someone closer crept into his head more and more often. So, he was a bit more than happy when his neighbor offered to take him out on a group outing. He thought the other boy strongly disliked him!

Oliver asked aloud, "I have had my heads in the clouds for too long, don't you think?"

"Is that why you are so quiet?"

He giggled, reaching for the bakery's front door. A passerby gave him a double take, topped with a distasteful scowl. "I suppose so." He pattered to the counter, glancing around the quiet building. "Bella?" After a moment of listening to silence, Oliver skittered around the counter and peeked into the kitchen. "Bella!" He sang, and his smile flipped to a scowl when there was no reply.

When he opened the basement door, a sea of blackness greeted him. Both of them shuddered from the creeping cold, and the low hisses of coal tars becoming aware of their disturbance. Oliver slammed the door rather loudly, and hurried away from it. He called for Anabella several more times, going around the counter, and gave the staircase a thoughtful look. He knew the steps led to Anabella's private apartment, so he had no reason to go upstairs. His boss was almost always around the bakery during work hours, or in the basement.

Oliver waited at the bottom, tugging on his shirt cuffs. Lila stirred on his head, making noises of deep thought. A loud clattering made him jump, disturbing her perch. The boy set a hesitant foot on the first step. "Anabella?"

"Is that you, Oliver?" A croak bounced down the stairs, "Come up, young man. I made more tea than I intended."

The teen shrugged, and hurried up the steps, eager at the prospect of tea. The stairs turned to a landing branching out to a vintage kitchen to the left, and a cozy living room to the right. A small hall promised more rooms between the dining area and lounge, but Oliver entered the black and white tiled kitchen for his promised tea. His boss poured the dark liquid into two cups, steaming soft clouds from a small island counter. She glanced up for a quick moment, and her sagging cheeks lifted with a smile.

"Would you like a sweetener?"

"Do you have sugar and honey?" Oliver returned the grin when she smiled and turned to excavate a cabinet above the stove. Her hands shuffled amongst the spice bottles, shaking enough to knock one over, that which prompted others to jump out after it. Both jerked in surprise as the containers bounced off the oven, dropping to the floor. "Let me help!" Oliver's voice crackled, and he bustled around the island counter to pick up the fallen (yet unspilled) spice tins.

Anabella bent forward, and he thought she was going to get them, since she was closer, but he skittered to a halt, shoes squawking on the tiled floors when her hand clamped on the edge of the counter. The elder gasped, but the sound was as if she was struggling for air.

"Bella!" Oliver leaned toward her in comfort, giving her back light pats. Lila exclaimed in panic as well, but neither of them knew what to do. "It will be all right." The boy's face contorted as Anabella erupted in a fit of wet coughs, holding a fist to her mouth. He tried not to flinch at the sickly sounds as she jerked away, still trembling, and turned for the sink. His boss turned on the water, and ran her hands under the current.

The fairy exclaimed, "Something is wrong with her!" as if it were not obvious.

Oliver crept over, still bristling with wide eyes. A stream of red was quickly washed away; he could have imagined it from the lights reflecting off of the silver bracelets around her wrists. He clamped his mouth close with an audible click of his teeth when he felt it gape open, as if to catch flies. The boy looked away as Anabella pushed herself from the counter, shuffling to the cups of tea. She snatched one as if in a hurry, despite her hands shaking so much. By the time she drained her mug, her quaking had subsided to a more calmer tremble.

Anabella sighed, quietly setting down her cup. She lifted her eyebrows, expecting Oliver to say something, but he opted to keep quiet, distracting himself with his own tea. She was old; it was no surprise that she was not versatile and healthy. "We should get started now. Take your tea with you."

"All right, I am right behind you."

Lila was more eager to be suspicious. "That was blood. I saw blood!"

Oliver swished his free hand at the fairy to silence her.

Once downstairs, he glanced to the reservation book, and noted, "We have yet to get orders for the day."

His boss shuffled pass the counter, bobbing her head in acknowledgement. "It will be an opportune time to go downstairs."

With a last swig, Oliver deposited his mug in the bakery's sink, and hurried after the elder. He tried to not let his heart leap out of his mouth from anticipation. If it was not exciting, he would not want his hopes to be crushed as much from disappointment, or worse, horror. Lila whined, more concerned than he was at the chill drifting from the basement. He grimaced as she tugged on his hair, prompting him to swat at a coal tar that floated too close. They hovered to Bella, as if bored of Oliver.

He silently followed her to a metal door bolted to the opposite wall. The basement was surprisingly empty, save for a few desolate shelves in the corner and a metal table with wheels in the middle of the room. Oliver's eyes were glued to the dulled surface, hoping those were rust stains near the bolts, and not anything else. Anabella produced a key ring from her pale cardigan, and inserted a thick key into its proper slot. "Come, Oliver, if you wish to continue."


	14. Chapter 13

Oliver tore his gaze from the metal table, feverishly nodding to persuade himself he wanted to continue. He had not expected a long, carved cavern leading from the basement to places he could not see from the hall's twists and turns. The walls were packed dirt, and cheap strings of industrial lights dangled from the ceiling. He shivered, and thought of bustling around the warm kitchen to get a delicious scented order in the oven. Several benches were pressed into the walls, and the furthest one held an enormous beast ordained in a surgeon's vibrant outfit. He stared at the stranger, stiff as the man turned his head in their direction. His entire face was hidden in a facial mask and buggly goggles.

"They are late," he crooned. Anabella drew closer to him, gesturing Oliver to do so as well, but he only took a few short steps before stopping. "Is this the charge you spoken about?"

"Yes," the elder said, easily understanding his thick tone. "This is Oliver. Oliver, come meet Nikolai."

The man held out a glove that ran to his elbow. "I will not bite, unless you want me to."

"Eugh!" Lila exclaimed, shrinking in Oliver's hair. The teen clenched his teeth, performing a quick bow, bending at the waist like he had seen Kuro do when he wanted to avoid conversation.

Nikolai made a noise of delighted thought, using his unshaken hand to flip a dark scarf over his shoulder, despite the garment not fitting his scrubs at all. "You know what we do under the ground, yes?"

Oliver guessed, "Not a drug cartel, right?" Anabella chuckled to herself, which caused his ears to turn red.

"No, we do not, so, in a way, you are right. I will give the details since the others still have to arrive yet. This lovely woman has employed a network of workers loosely involved in a medical run. We do things that the law would strongly advise against, but what are a few written words next to large stows of cash?"

The teen gave Anabella a worried look. She smiled sweetly, "Oliver, do you think I could support myself with a simple bakery? I would go bankrupt in a few months with the business I get!"

"S-so what do you do?" He asked, already having a solid idea with the metal slab, Nikolai's surgeon wear, and once with Louis taking the mysterious coolers, dressed in a doctor's jacket. "Though, I do believe I should not ask that, since I already know."

"Oh?" Nikolai tipped his head, his expression unreadable through his goggles and hazard mask.

The boy's fingernails prickled his palms, not enjoying the chilling presence. "You...you deliver organs for medical purposes, since hospitals do not help with how much they cost."

"I do not deliver the goods. That is what Anabella does."

"You know what I mean."

Nikolai giggled-yes, giggled- at the boy's scowl. "Of course. You see, I can be smart, too. Once I pull the bodies to pieces, I will go on my merry way, and we will not speak of this ever. No one that does not work for Anabella will not know of this, or else they will be the next ones on the slab!"

Anabella scoffed loudly, and swished a hand in the man's direction. Her laughter covered Oliver's and Lila's sharp intakes of breath. They were surrounded by crazy people! The others shared more snickers and knowing looks, and Oliver smiled uneasily from the merrymaking. It was better to be on their good side, than being targeted by them. "As long as I do not have to cut open dead bodies, then I have no qualms about baking and running coolers to their destinations."

The surgeon made a hissing sound, or perhaps he was laughing. "No, the dissecting is _my_ job." His voice leaped, "And I cannot do that if you are late all the time!"

Oliver's eyes widened in horror. For a moment, he thought this man he never seen before was shouting at him, until he caught exclamations of fright down the hall. A pair of boys scurried into view, huffing as they carried another one slung over their shoulders. Oliver thought he was unconscious or injured, as the unresponsive person's legs dragged the ground. That quickly changed when the duo hurried past them, and he caught a hole in the man's head, still dripping red on the dirt floors.

Lila whispered, "I think I am going to be sick."

Anabella sighed, "You will have a little more to clean up, Nikolai."

The operator shrugged. "It would be the cherries on my whipped cream." He rose to his feet, almost doubling Oliver's height. The boy took a step back without thinking. Nikolai lifted a huge hand, and ruffled his hair as he passed by, earning an exclamation of fright.

"Excuse you!" Lila spat, just missed as she dropped down to latch onto Oliver's collar.

His boss turned to the teen, who was swishing his locks back into their unassigned places and mumbling quiet apologies. "Oliver, will you be able to carry out these operations? You do not have to handle anything bloody, if that is what worries you. The police will not bother with your business...especially yours, since you will just be transporting coolers from place to place. Half of the town's officers had some of the very blood and organs we deliver. No one will shoot a spoiled eye to an innocent baker, will they?"

A grin lifted Oliver's cheeks. "No, I would say not." Anabella was waiting for a legit answer. "I will stay with you, Bella. Who knows? It may be interesting..."

Lila did not seem as interested. "You can count me out."

The elder beamed, exposing missing teeth from age. "Then let us bake, and when Nikolai is finished storing our goods, we will take them where they need to go."

Oliver nodded, silently following his boss back to the basement. The body lain on the metal slab, and the two boys who brought it in scurried away, frightened, and in a great rush to leave. Anabella went for the stairs, but the teen slowed, staring at the pale corpse. Nikolai had his back to him, rummaging through a large bag, and pulled out medical tools. At least the body was no longer alive, from the looks of the scalpels and tweezers.

"Oliver," Lila whimpered when he approached the table, "what are you doing?" The dead man looked too pale, too still to be sleeping, but he did not stink like Oliver heard deceased people do. Wondering how fresh it was, as the trail of blood from the hole in his head was dripping, he slowly reached out.

He did not know what to expect from a cadaver, but he figured it did not include a large hand clamping onto his wrists. Nikolai grabbed him before his fingertips touched the dead man's forehead. Oliver drew a sharp breath, gawking at the surgeon with wide eyes. "No touching." After a heavy moment of staring, he released Oliver's arm, and resumed the excavation of his bag. The teen took several steps back, cradling his hand to chest. The operator turned his head in curiosity when he did not flee. His cheeks uplifted through his mask. "I do not want fingerprints on my canvas."

"Of course not," Oliver tightly quipped, and spun away to escape the dank room. He slammed the basement door louder than necessary, letting out a breath he was holding. The warmth and constant scent of baked goods wafted in his nostrils, easing both him and his friend.

The fairy shuddered. "I do not want to go down there ever again! Are you sure you want to involve yourself in that kind of business? Did you see how the coal tars were swarming that scary man?"

"Scary," Oliver weakly agreed, braced against the door. "I have decided..."

Lila clenched a large clump of his hair. "Decided on what?"

"Since I am going to be doing this, I will perform solely on Neutral and Light magic. Even though that means I will not be able to curse people..."

"Oh! That's a great-"

"Oliver," Anabella's voice echoed from peering into the refrigerator. "Are you speaking to yourself or me?"

The boy hissed under his breath, pushing from the door. He straightened his shirt collar, and uncertainly approached her. "Do you need anything?"

To answer his question, the bell on the front counter snapped out, followed by the sound of it hitting the floor. Both bakers flinched from the shatters, and exchanged a disgruntled look. "Remind me to get one of those plastic dingers instead of a ceramic one."

Stifling a giggle, Oliver cut through the kitchen, bracing for the mess. He stopped in front of the counter, glancing from the poor bell, to Allen (of all people in that town) leaning over the surface, staring at him with wide eyes. "Did you do that?"

"Nah, that was like that when I got here."

"Hey!" Lila called out, "That's one of the new kids! Hey, new kid!"

Oliver nonchalantly drew a hand over his head, disturbing her perch. "Do not hit it so hard next time."

Something about his suggestion was funny, and he could hear Allen's giggles and snorts from the back room, where the broom and dust pan were stored. Anabella glanced behind herself as Oliver came back through the kitchen. "Who is it?"

"One of the kids from the House."

"Howdy!" Allen said, as if he did not see Oliver less than a minute ago. "You got cupcakes?"

Oliver bent down to sweep the shattered ceramic. "Well, it _is_ a bakery. _The Queen's Cupcakes,_ to be exact."

Another deep giggle. Anabella emerged from the kitchen, her eyebrows raising in curiosity. "What do we have here? Another one from the House?"

"Yeah!"

"Are you a friend of Oliver's?"

Allen repeated with a grin, "Yeah!" at the same time Oliver said, "Not really."

Anabella glanced between the two as her worker dumped the pieces in the trash bin. "Oliver, shame on you."

The boy's ears reddened. "What for?!"

"Yeah, Ollie, shame!"

"Oh, belt up," Oliver turned away for the kitchen to put the broom and dustpan back.

Lila asked, "How about it?"

"How about what?"

"The new kid! Oliver, he's a smiler! Isn't that great?"

"Is he? I thought he was a little...slow in the head."

"You think he's flying crookedly?"

"That is what they say about all smilers, is it not?" Oliver crossed the kitchen, stopping to eye what Anabella was making. He knew what it was, based on the bag of chocolate chips, and decided to get to work while his boss was making friends.

Halfway through the mixing, she crept behind him, and barked, "What are you doing?!"

Oliver gasped, dropping the wooden spoon in the bowl. "Y-you are making cookies, right?"

Anabella sniggled at his fright. "I was." She looked to the batter pointedly. "If I may..."

"Oh..." Oliver backed away from the counter, watching her take over. "Do you need anything?"

"Yes, actually. There is a customer out there. Make sure he is not left to his own accord."

"Who? Allen?"

"You know how boys from the House are." Anabella added with a light chuckle, "Well, most of them."

Oliver did not say anything, not feeling eager to entertain. When he reentered the front room, Allen looked up from squinting at the trifold menu on the counter. "Bella is making chocolate chip cookies. If you want any, it will be a little wait."

"Aw, yeah, that's great!" Allen roughly set the menu back on the surface. He went to lean against the counter with one hand, but misjudged the distance, and missed. His cry of surprise was cut off as his head collided with the plastic, and crumbled to the floor.

Lila flew off of Oliver's head. "Mother nature!"

"Oh, gosh!" Oliver rushed around the counter, hands over his mouth. "You all right?"

Allen picked up his head, revealing a mean dent on his forehead. In turn, the cheap counter had a chip missing from it. "Yeah, this is nothin'."

"Nothing?!" Oliver exclaimed. He glanced around the bakery, as if a few empty tables and a cash register would help. "Uh...I will get you some ice. You will be wanting it in the next moment or so."

The fairy muttered, "Oh, yeah, something is missing in there."

At the sight of her worker making an appearance again so soon, Anabella asked, "What was that racket?"

"Err...Allen fell."

"What did he fall for?" The elder winked.

"The counter?" Oliver said uncertainly, wrapping an ice pack with a dishrag. She stuck the cookies in the oven, and tapped the timer as he breezed into the front room. Allen situated himself at one of the tables, clutching onto his head. The hit was enough to calm him down, and he stopped smiling for once. "Here." The other teen glanced up, looking at the wrap in slight confusion. "Y-you put it to your bruise..."

"I know that!" Allen took it, and pressed the cloth against his face with a muffled grunt. So soon, he started grinning again. "Hey," he startled Oliver from his staring. "Thanks. You can be a real pal, y'know?"

"Uh, thank you?"

Lila made exaggerated thinking noises, most likely being obnoxious on purpose. Anabella emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of milk, smiling like she had secrets as she usually did. "The cookies will be out in less than twenty minutes."

Allen wiggled in his seat. "Boy, am I excited!"

Anabella seemed delighted. "I can tell! It is good to have someone so enthusiastic about the art of baking." She set one cup in front of him, and the other in the adjacent seat with a narrow look to her worker. "So! That is certainly not a Boston accent I am hearing."

At the signal of a potentially long conversation, Oliver settled in his assigned seat, but kept his eyes on his milk glass. Lila crept closer to his forehead, probably wanting some of the cool beverage. The other boy perked as if he did not have a huge gash near his temple. "I sprouted from the ol' sunny southern United States!"

"Texas?" The elder guessed.

"Texas, Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama. I even lived in Kentucky briefly." Allen admitted, "There was lots o'...relocatin'."

"It sounds like you have gotten around!" She put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "It is good to hear we are not the only ones. Did your parents change jobs frequently? That is a very common reason kids are hauled all over the place."

"Naw, it's just been me an' my bro...uh, brother, Matt."

"I see." At last, Anabella took her hand away. Oliver sipped on his milk as a distraction. "Oh," she said, her gaze wandering to the kitchen. "I forgot...something. Silly me."

"Psst, psst!" Lila hissed, desperate for some milk. The boy set the glass a little ways from himself, so she could perch on the edge without his hands getting in the way.

"You know..." Allen began. "It'll make things easier if you told me y'don't wanna talk to me."

"What!" Oliver forced himself to speak in an even tone, if a bit snippy, "Who says I do not want to..." Lila lifted herself from scooping milk in her palm, tossing a curious look at the teen's pinked cheeks. "I said no such thing!"

"How am I supposed to know when you look at me like I'm an idiot?"

"Oh, you are more self aware than I thought. How is your head?"

Allen grumbled, switching his hands that were holding the dishrag to his wound. Lila laughed at him, swooping down for more milk, but of course, he had not heard.

"Have you not gotten the memo?" Oliver raised a hand in the air, as if addressing to a crowd, "By decree of some unspoken rule, no persons of society will freely express themselves, be it art, or be it emotion, unless they wish to be outcasted. Thank you, and do not have a good day."

The other boy gaffed, not bothering to cover his mouth to stifle himself. "So what? That means you can't be a generally tolerable person?"

Oliver shrugged. "Apparently so! That is all I know!"

"Heh, heh, yeah, I got the memo, an' I tore it to shreds before burnin' it." Allen leaned against the table, his voice dropping. "You know why?"

Oliver pressed the back of his hand against his lips, lightly laughing at his own joke, too. "Because it is absolute rubbish?"

"That too! But Ollie, I woke up too many times from dirt roads, wonderin' to myself if that was my last day, if somethin' would happen to Matt, wonderin' if we'd get somethin' to eat..."

"Allen?"

Lila flinched, but smiled from being nearly inside the glass. Her voice echoed, "Ooh, things got serious real fast!"

The boy blinked out of his distant gaze, peeling the ice pack from his forehead. "That got too cold. When I clicked it all together, wit' the way people be lookin' at us like we had three heads whenever we smiled an' laughed, I realized there was a whole 'nother world out there that they waste their time worryin' about."

"I..." Oliver did not know what to say. The fairy dipping dangerously low in the milk glass pulled herself up, and hurried to her usual perch on his head. "I am sorry." His eyebrows furrowed as Lila suddenly belched, and slapped a hand to her stomach, giggling.

"Aw, shucks, don't apologize!" Allen set the dishrag on the table, and gave his bruise a light rub. "You were just lookin' out fer me, right!" He performed another excited wiggle as the stove beeped, signaling that the cookies were done. He spoke over the clattering as Anabella pulled them out of the oven, "That's 'cause you don't care what they say, too. You ain't like 'em."

"Like who?"

The oven door slammed shut, and the other boy left his question unanswered in prospect of fresh goods. Lila was eager about the cookies, too, as she stirred around his hair. Allen tossed a wink, "People like us gotta stick together. What d'you say?"

Oliver glanced up, pleasantly surprised. "You would like to be friends?"

"Yeah, I'll be your _friend._ We could do _friend_ stuff like going out for sandwiches, hug, an' maybe point an' laugh at people that talk shit on us."

The fairy gave one last twitch as Anabella walked through the doorway with a platter of cookies, smiling at Oliver's giggles. Lila clicked her thoughts together with, "Oh!" but the teen was too involved with other things and people to pay her any heed.

"Wow, I am suddenly feeling very popular lately!" Oliver would feel stupid to refuse, "Of course I'll be your friend."

* * *

 _Author's Note- Nikolai- 2p!Russia; creepin' in yo' basements. Ignore the muffled laughter coming though the floorboards._


	15. Chapter 14

The fairy kept giggling, even as Oliver and Anabella descended to the basement at the sound of a muffled ringing. It spooked Allen, who the elder had to dismiss with the excuse that they were going to run errands. He sucked up the excuses, happy that he got away with free cookies and a friend.

"What could possibly be so funny?" Oliver hissed to Lila. "Unless you are trying to annoy me, which I will admit, it _is_ working."

"What is working?" Nikolai's younger ears caught what Anabella did not. He proudly announced with pointing a glove saturated in red to a cooler sitting on the floor, "Not me! I am finished!" The boy stared at the lump on the table, thankful for the plastic sheet covering it. The operator lifted his hand held bell from his coat pocket, and shook it again, earning Oliver's attention. He giggled at the scowl he received. "Take care of the goods. They are a good batch this time!"

"Oliver, can you take that to the car?" Anabella said, "My keys are hanging in their normal place."

"Do we do anything else, besides deliver the parts?" The teen eyed the covered body. "That is a mess you have there."

Nikolai held his arms over the sheet, hissing, "It is my mess."

Oliver frowned, and grabbed the cooler. Anabella wished Nikolai a fine evening, trailing after the boy. The basement door shut loudly, closing off the faint buzzing of coal tars, and Nikolai's strange, huffing laughter. The teen grumbled, "Goodness, he is an odd one."

Anabella was close enough to catch the comment. "It takes one to know one."

"Bella!"

Lila let out a long groan from his head, breaking her endless giggling fits. "Oh no."

The boy slowed his steps in horror, earning a bemused look from his boss as she padded to the car. "What?" He almost inaudibly said.

"I'm going to be sick. Too much milk. Oh no. I have to go." She disappeared in a flash of glitter. Oliver was left to blink in confusion, and continue with his life from the sudden departure.

Once the cooler was deposited in the trunk of her shabby sedan, Oliver wiggled into the front passenger seat, and gleefully announced, "I do not get many opportunities to be in a car!"

The elder glimpsed at the boy as she revved the engine, which sputtered in a fit of coughs as she did. "You do not have driving experience." It was not a question.

"I...no, I was separated from my parents before either of them could teach me."

"Good thing I am here," Anabella pulled away from the curb with a jerk of the vehicle.

"Y-you do not have to do anything! I was not implying that you should-"

"Do you want to continue working in my bakery after I am gone?"

Oliver quieted. "Yes."

"Then you need to learn how to drive, after we get rid of these organs, of course." Anabella did not make room for disagreement, focusing on not getting her car clipped from all sides of the insane roads. A bus stop stood alone along the side of the triple-lane street, protected by its own lane. Three people clad in long white overcoats huddled close to each other from the late winter winds. When the elder pulled to the curb after just missing a huge truck nearly ripping her side view mirror off, they snapped up their heads at the disturbance. One of the two men lifted his arm over his head, and limply waved it at her.

"Bella, your grandson is here," Oliver said, feeling stupid as he remembered Louis picking up one of the coolers a while back.

"I see," Anabella giggled. "Make sure you get out on this side, Oliver. I do not want the traffic getting you."

Oliver looked out his window, at the endless stream of cars zipping by, and eagerly crawled over his boss' seat. The three doctors let out whoops for Anabella, causing her cheeks to become rosy with laughter. "Oh, you!"

The other man claimed, "We missed you, Bella!"

"I can tell," the elder said, opening her trunk. Oliver rushed around the car to pluck the cooler from the back, so she would not have to, but sort of regretted it as he stumbled from its great weight. He towed the goods to the sidewalk, and set them down with a rough huff. The lady doctor broke from the huddle to grasp it.

"No, seriously, do not help the poor kid," she muttered to her companions.

Louis plucked the cigarette from his mouth to kiss his grandmother's cheeks. "It goes well?"

"I am fine, but you will not be if you keep popping those things in your mouth like candy!"

The man flinched from the old woman's scolding, and dropped the butt onto the unforgiving ground. "Ah, yes, Bella." He glanced up from the sidewalk, from his abandoned cigarette, to Oliver thanking the other woman. With a sideways glare, the boy warned him not to come closer with his stench, but the look was ignored. "It has appeared that I have been wanting to see you again without realizing it."

"What?" Oliver crinkled his nose from the doctor's breath billowing out into the cool air. "Why would you do that?"

"Come on!" The other man groaned. "He's like, twelve."

Anabella's eyes crinkled with relentless laughter from her grandson's dejected face. "Watch where you put your hands!"

"I am almost fifteen," Oliver spat.

"Oh," the dark haired doctor raised his hands in the air. "My apologies, dear almost-fifteen-year old."

"Well, I guess it is up to me to pay you guys, huh?" The woman announced loudly so her partners would settle. She reached in her coat for her wallet, and produced a hefty amount of cash. Oliver's eyes bugged out of his head from the sum Anabella took.

"Thank you. See you next time, the same time." Anabella nodded to her charge as the doctors murmured their own farewells. "Pay attention from here on out, Oliver," she said as if he was not. "It is a day of learning."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Learning was not the most fun thing to do. She told him what a lot of the buttons are for, including the weird triangle in the middle of the dashboard. When Oliver had gotten a basic understanding of the mechanics, Anabella dared to put him behind the wheel. She found an abandoned parking lot for him, so nobody or nothing would be potentially harmed.

"Brake! Brake! That is the accelerator!"

"Oops!" After a while, "Ew! There is a dead squirrel in the car park!"

Anabella still had enough patience to drop Oliver in front of the House's main gate. Once on the walkway, he bent forward to peek at his boss. "Thank you, Bella. Truly. I know I _may_ have been difficult today."

"Do you expect me to accept your apology for educating you?" The elder asked. Oliver dumbly stared at her. "Away with you, now. Come again to the bakery late tomorrow morning. We have a cake to bake for a wedding."

"Why would you need a cake for a wedding?"

She laughed as if she had a joke with herself. "Perhaps they are having a big party for a big, happy marriage. None the less, let them eat cake!"

Oliver chuckled, too. "All right, Bella. Tomorrow." He turned from the vehicle as his boss cranked up the window and pulled away. The tall wooden gate greeted him, his home. "I should have known I was to stay here." Without a reply, he raised a hand to his hair, and swished at the absence, remembering Lila excused herself out of sickness from consuming too much milk.

As soon as Oliver opened the front gates, a small group of boys glanced up in surprise, all hooting greetings to him. He stopped in the middle of the opening, and jumped when the gate swung and clapped his back. "H-hello?"

Another teen moved from the back of the gathered mass, and made his way up front. His neighbor, again, had that snarky hint of a grin on his gnarled face. Oliver's presence must have made him a happy person. "I thought that old lady wouldn't let you go."

"No, no, I am back now."

"I can see that." His neighbor swished a hand at the other boys. "Are you still coming with us?"

"Oh, for food," Oliver was not too hungry, but he was not going to pass up the chance of company. "Of course. Where are we going?"

"Uptown a little bit." The gate slammed shut again with a loud collision of metal and wood, and a few snickers rose from the others trailing behind.

Their sneaky noises made Oliver shiver with goose bumps, but played it off with his own attempts of a cool grin. He did not know any of these kids' names, and yet he was walking along side of them as if they owned the world. It made him feel gloated, and he definitely knew that if Lila was there with him, she would be condemning his decisions. He pushed those stupid stomach feelings down, so he could enjoy himself for the moment.

His neighbor suddenly swerved into an alleyway between two shops, and Oliver glanced around in alarm as the others automatically followed his steps. Not wanting to be left in the dust, he hurried after the small group where it made a giant U-turn around the rear of one of the buildings. The other teen held up a hand, and everyone stopped. One boy twisted around to investigate Oliver who accidently rammed into his back and bounced off, and he bared his teeth in an odd smile.

"All right," Oliver's neighbor turned around to face the group, and spoke in a hushed tone. "We got this, right guys? This is a simple task, so there should be no muck-ups this time. You two," he gestured to two boys and then made a sweeping motion to the street. "The usual. You know what to do. Get in there, get out. Then rest of you, once you hear Porky's signal, all of you are going to charge in."

"W-wait," Oliver piped up, and bristled as several pairs of eyes turned on him. "What are we doing?"

"I already told you. The rest of you sweep in, and take what you can, and get out. It shouldn't be hard," his neighbor said with a hard glare to a specific member, who ducked his head to the asphalt. "Okay, you two are up."

This had nothing to do with sitting down at a restaurant and opening menus! One of the boys jogged out onto the street, and another, chubbier one awkwardly shuffled/jogged after him. He hollered after the other, "Get back here! I still gotta gut you like a fish!"

"Yeah?" The other boy called back, his voice fading down the street, "You'd probably eat the leftovers, too!"

The rest of the group posed ready for who knows what at the foot of the alley, and Oliver glanced around the dark and grimy walls for some sort of answer. There was a sharp collision, and something big collapsed to the ground. "Argh! You guys!"

Oliver neighbor hissed, "There it is! Let's go!"

 _That_ was the signal? Oliver uncertainly followed after the group's eager charge into the walkway. It sounded like a lonesome cat howling at the moon! One of the boy's that went first, Porky, as he was so cruelly nicknamed, was in the mist of a mess of wood, baskets, and apples that were tumbling and bouncing all over the concrete and into the road. The owner of the fruit stall, a short old man, held his hands up, and his mouth gaped, as if he did not know how to react to the mess of his destroyed stand.

"There they are! Grab them!"

Oliver slowed to a walk, wondering what to grab. His company took to the ground, plucking the apples as if they were beggars and it just rained money. The boy lowered himself to the concrete out of confusion, and simply followed what the others were doing. The teen caught in the middle of the wreckage suddenly burst out of the pile of wood with an evil laugh, gobbled some of the fruit in his grubby hands, and shoved by everyone else in a grand escape.

"Whoa, what-" Oliver leaped to his feet as the rest of the team hastily retreated. He locked eyes with the old man, and just as the elder flushed red with rage, pointing a crooked finger at him, the boy spun on his heel to flee just like the others. It happened so fast; all he knew was that he had two brown apples in his hands, and was slinking through the alleyways with his Housemates, taking the hidden route back to the hostel.

Another signal from his neighbor prompted the group to stop again, just before a turn out on another street that led back to the House. "You did good this time! Got in, got out, just the way it should be."

Oliver fumbled with the fruit in his hands, and blurted, "What are we going to do with these?"

The first boy that began the initial chase met up with the larger group just in time to hear the question. He plucked one of the apples from Oliver's hands, and took a large chomp out of its side. "What else do we do with apples, huh? We eat 'em!"

The group came alive with snorts and sniggles, and Oliver's ears burned red. "But what about that poor old man, and that cart that got destroyed?"

"Oh, those things are crap. A freaking fly smashes into it, and they break. It was only a matter of time for him."

"Are we not going to pay for these?" Oliver asked in a last desperate attempt to be a civil human being.

His neighbor raised his hands, and the boys that were huddling menacingly closer to Oliver took a step back. "Oliver, Oliver, why pay for it? We have the fruit in our hands...literally, so it doesn't matter anymore." He bit into one of his own apples, and gnashed it between his teeth. Juice flung out of his mouth as he said, "It's over now, and you did a good job. Eat up, and stop complaining about it."

Easier said then done. Oliver was more than eager to flee into his bedroom that night without looking at any of his other Housemates in the eye, in case they mysteriously found out what he done by a guilty glance. He gave his stolen apple to the cat-monkey chimera that hid amongst the trees, rather than eat it himself. Hoping to forget about what happened to ruin an innocent man's day, he wiggled into bed, and meditated on the Realm of Sprits. He had news to give to his mother, but the boy knew deep down he just wanted to get away from his hectic consciousness for a little while.

"No way! Nope! I am _not_ looking at you, Mister Six Inch Fangs. Yes, I acknowledge your appearance is frightening, but is that what you are hoping to achieve? I have you know you will not make friends growling and glaring like that," Oliver chided to movements in the surrounding trees. Sure, his being trembled with the prospect of being swallowed whole by the dark forest's characters, but he realized they were only curious about the flames he carried as he trekked to the center of the woods.

The five man long creature let out a low groan, as if weary. Oliver sighed, "Oh, I know. Today was just awful, and tonight is going to be worse, but it will get that dreadful weight off my shoulders." Another spooky serpent ran along the intertwining branches above his head, and chittered at him. He listened to each of their voices, realizing that together, they made a chorus.

However, they shifted away from the approaching brightness, grumbling how it hurt their sensitive eyes. "Do not be fret," Oliver told them. "I will be back on the return trip." He clamped his hand, banishing his summoned flames. His mother sat on the largest toadstool, about the size of his own height. Her posture was slouched with her back to her son. Her journey must have not been as kind to her as it was to him.

Oliver treaded on a small shroom, which let out a small hiss as his foot crushed it. Marionette gasped, and twisted around. Her tired face lit up at the sight of her child, and slipped from the rubbery toadstool. "Oliver!" She pattered to him, arms open and inviting. The boy made a pained whine from the back of his throat, clenching his fists at his sides. He had not took a step to her, and she skittered to a stop, tilting her head in confusion at her son's cold reaction. "Oliver, dear, are you all right? Was the trip unkind?"

"Not to me. I am fine, Mum." Oliver dropped his gaze to the bicolored grass when she kept staring at him. "The trip was fine."

"You do not seem fine."

The teen gathered his courage with a few deep breaths, and then spoke in a low and quick voice, "Dad is dead. I was going to tell you the last time we met, but..."

Marionette nodded when her son lifted his head to meet her gaze. "We both were caught up in the moment." Oliver's eyebrows mashed together in slight confusion from her reaction. "I know your father is dead."

"What?" Oliver gasped. "How? Did someone tell you?"

"The spirits, honey." Marionette took an uncertain step toward him, tugging at her fingers to keep her hands busy. "I looked for him everywhere, but I could not even feel his soul. Were you...Oliver, were you there when he..."

Oliver meekly nodded. "Yes."

"Oh!" His mother raised a hand to her mouth, staring as if Oliver was the one that was slain before her eyes. "Oliver-"

"I rather not dote on it, if you mind," the boy said quietly yet firmly.

"Oliver," Marionette tried again, mouth gaping.

"I know. This was not supposed to happen, but it did. I really do not know what to say about that, Mum."

She had caught on his formalities, slowly lowering her hands from her tear streaked face. "Oliver, dear, are you...are you furious at me?"

The boy lightly scoffed, dabbing at his eyes with his shoulder sleeve. "I am certain if I was angry, I would be kicking and screaming." He gave his head a little shake as his mother weakly laughed. "No, but Mum, you will not be able to get out of prison, and I am stuck at the House...the youth hostel until I can get out."

"You are leaving, then."

"I will leave when I can."

"No, honey, I mean you are leaving the Realm of Spirits."

Oliver felt his insides twist in self-disgust. "W-well, I have a job now at a local bakery, and my friends have been dragging me to all these places. It is not so bad coming back from here, but every night takes a toll on my awareness during the day..." He trailed off as the guilt clawed its way to his face. "Oh, Mum, I am the worst-"

Marionette rushed forward, obviously startling her child with her sudden motions. She clasped her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Oliver, do not apologize for having a life. That is what I wanted of you in the first place! You should not stand by and let opportunity to pass by because you were waiting from my choices!"

"S-so you are not angry?"

"Never with you, dear."

The teen scrubbed at his eyes, now smiling, and leaned to his mother's embrace. "I love you, Mum. When I can, I will visit you."

Marionette planted a gentle kiss to her son's forehead. "I will be waiting."

* * *

 _A.N.- The two other doctors besides Louis (2p!France) are just random doctors. Or...my old beta said they could be 2p!Hungary and 2p!Spain. Whatever humps your camel._


	16. Chapter 15

"Winter finally decided to go screw itself." One of the girls declared during breakfast, "We're going to chill on the bleachers today! Join us." She did not allow Oliver any room to refuse. "You know, after work."

The boy smiled out of mannerism. "Of course. I will be there."

The table quieted, which was unusual for the girls and with the background of their other Housemates. Oliver looked around in alarm, and found that his neighbor's little posse emerged from the kitchen, tight knit, and strutting like they owned the place as always. He was tempted to spring up and say hello, but after what went down the previous day, he rather be around the company of his lady friends. So, he ducked his head, and kept his eyes on his food for the rest of breakfast.

When it came time to leave, he waited until the girls got up to disperse to their own doings, and weaved between them to hide himself from his neighbor. He swore he felt eyes on his back, but did not turn around and check. If he made any contact with those boys again, they may drag him to do more awful things, so Oliver made it a priority to rush to the bakery. He and Bella had a special order to make!

~.~

~BOINGERS~

~.~

"Flowers? You added flowers," Anabella noted as she circled the completed wedding cake. The boy kept a smile as he picked at his nails. Her face puckered, slate eyes jumping from the vines and branches of purple blossoms against the icing. When Oliver began to falter with his proud humming, she cracked a broad grin. "Well done."

When the buyer entered the shop, her reaction was poorly masked once the bakers brought the cake onto the main counter. The woman eyed the three tiered masterpiece as if it were an alien object, a beautiful alien object. "I...I love cherry blossoms," she whispered as if the police would burst through the windows and arrest her for thinking so. Oliver and Anabella exchanged mischievous smiles.

"It is a beautiful day, Oliver," she said after the kitchen was tidy. "The sun is shining nicely again." When the teen gave her a confused look, she clicked her tongue. "Go and enjoy it."

"But there is all Summer-"

Anabella snatched a dishrag from the oven's handle, and whipped it against Oliver's lower back. He yelped, and clamped his hands on the affected area, eyes wide and frightened at the elder's fury. "Go on, now, Oliver. We will be driving tomorrow."

Oliver obediently went for the front door, but not before receiving a plastic bag of sugar cookies. As he stepped into the warm outdoors, he swore he caught Anabella coughing, but the metal door groaned loudly as it shut, but she would have stopped by the time he tugged it open again. He decided to stop staring into the windows, and go back the House. The girls were waiting for him.

The boy hummed, some random words peeking from his tune. The passersby swerved from his chipper strut, their heads twisting to the sides, since apparently, they could not tear their gazes away. Oliver smiled through his singing. "Sugar, mmhmm, sugar, sugar..." His tunes cut off to a startled squeak as the branches above his head shifted around angrily. He slowly craned his head up, spotting a familiar ball of white fur. A flat face peeked through the budding twigs.

"Singing," the cat-money said. "I have not heard singing in many moons."

Oliver cheekily grinned, and lifted a treat from his bag. "Cookie?"

"Apple?"

"No, even better."

The chimera tipped its head, as if nothing better than apples existed. A clawed paw snatched the cookie, and it eagerly devoured it with a quick flick of its poufy tail. The mystical animal stared at him with wide eyes. "The weather is not the only thing that is warm."

"Did you like it?"

The creature shrunk back, before shooting up the tree without a response. Oliver opened the bag of cookies, taking quick whiffs to detect anything strange about them. They were wonderfully aromatic, and he smiled in anticipation of eating them. "The girls will love these," he said aloud, and hurried across the yard to the benches.

"Hey, hey!" One girl hooted, gaining the attention of the others. "Long time no see, right? Ha-ha!"

"Hello ladies," Oliver raised his hand, and they tapped it with their palms in greeting. He plopped in his usual spot in the middle bench.

"You're late!"

The boy lightly whined from their teasing jabs, "I had work!" He held up his bag for a peace treaty, not forgetting to take one for himself. "Look! Cookies!"

The bag was out of his fingers before he could finish speaking. Like pack animals, the girls ripped the plastic for the goods inside with dangerously sharp nails. "Hey! I just saw you take two!"

"So what?"

"So what?! Give me one, you hog!"

Antagonizing the spar, another one made disturbing noises. "Oink! Oink!"

"Stop oinking! She just took three!"

"Girls," Oliver shook his head with an endearing smile. He muttered under his breath, "What savage beasts."

The fight for cookies cut off to a crisp silence due to a newcomer steadily staring at the girls. The many pairs of eyes would easily prompt a disturbance to slink away, guilty for watching, but it did not affect Allen for some odd reason. "Y'all got cookies?"

"Um...Oliver brought them."

"We're out," another said.

"N-not necessarily," Oliver grumbled, twisting his own treat in his hands. The other boy was about to die without it, so he sighed heavily, and held it out. "Here, take the blasted thing."

Allen gasped loudly, "Really?!"

"Take it," Oliver angrily insisted, waving the cookie at him. Several girls snickered as he clarified, "I get plenty of things to eat from the bakery, so this is nothing."

"Aw, shucks, Ollie, you're the best!" Eagerly snatching the cookie with an outstretched hand, Allen crammed it in his mouth, and leaped over the lower benches. The seat warmers leaned away, glaring at him in shock at his audacity to invade their territory. He parked his rump right next to Oliver, grinning at the girls like he could not stop. He asked, "What's up?" but it came out (with crumbs) like, "Whaffup?"

Oliver announced, "Allen, you have just landed yourself in a nest full of queen bees."

Ignoring the comment, and the glances casted from corners of eyes, the other boy said, "That was awesome! Did y'make it?"

"That was Anabella."

"Don't you make anythin'? Aren't you a baker?"

"Baker in training."

"Oh." Disappointment was not enough to get Allen to stop smiling. "So when are we gon' hang out?"

"Aren't we 'hanging out' right now?"

One of the girls loudly cleared her throat, and reached under her seat to pull out a small black suitcase. "Guess who brought her nail polish?!"

The others murmured in approval, flocking to her for the bottles. Allen glanced around, craning his head to snoop. "What's happenin'? What's goin' on?"

Two girls shimmied closer to Oliver, wearing dangerous smiles. He winced like he saw a terrible misfortune. "Ooh, must I choose? They are all lovely colors!"

"What's that stuff?"

"Then we'll use all of them!"

"Ollie!"

"It is nail polish to color your nails, Allen."

"That's why they be callin' it nail polish, right?"

"Yes, dear."

The girls snickered. Allen watched them brush the colored tips across the other boy's fingertips, as if he never saw the madness before. "Do y'think y'all can make my nails look pretty?"

The bench warmers looked at him in shock, some giving in to giggles. "You want your nails painted?"

"Sure, why not! What kind o' colors you got?"

With a little more certainty, the girl that brought the goods dug around her bag. "I have a wicked hot red, or fluffy yellow." She dug a bit deeper, finding something really interesting. "How about the darkest, manliest color I have; black?"

"As long as you make it look cool!"

"Oh, yes," the girl almost sneered, "you will be the coolest boy on the block."

"Rad!"

The girl streaking Oliver's nails leaned in to mutter in his ear, "Is he a _friend_ of yours?"

He shifted to side to side with a glance to the other boy in the corner of his eye. "Y-yes? It just...sort of happened."

"Huh," she straightened to focus on her paint job. "Better here than with those idiots running around."

"What idiots running around?"

"Crookednose has gathered up a posse and started acting like they own the place, and demand all kinds things from everyone. Food, toys, even some guy's hat. They gave some other poor kid a wedgie for not giving up the pack of sweets he brought into the gates."

"Classic," Oliver dryly commented. "Wait a tic, Crookednose? Who could have possibly earned such a nickname...?"

"Your neighbor."

Oliver considered his permanently marred face. "Oh? Oh, I see." He glanced down to his lap when the flood of memories and guilt of the apple escapade washed back to him. "He is..." He tried searching for kind words, "My neighbor tends to keep to himself. He used to blow me off, but lately we have been getting along more, I would say."

"He what?!" Allen squawked.

They gave him a confused look. "My neighbor used to blow me off every time I tried to talk to him."

"Uh, I'm goin' to go out on a limb here, an' say you mean he snubbed you every time you tried to be friendly."

"Yes," Oliver hissed. "That is what I meant the first time around." He shook his head as the other boy wiggled around on the metal bench, and he turned back to the girl. "That is strange, though. I can see them getting into a few scuffles with some of the other blokes here and there, but a classic case of the bullies?"

"Believe it, Oliver. They've only gotten worse."

Another girl murmured, "Being cooped up in the House all winter must have really gotten to them. Those sickos were humping the air like a blind dog when I wore that flowery dress of mine."

"It's a shame. I really liked that one. Maybe in the summer, they'll get outside the property more, and leave us alone."

"Wait," Allen glanced around with an angry face. "Why can't you wear pretty dresses?"

The girl gave him a dull look. "There are creepy boys that stare and try to touch us whenever we show our skin."

"Not all boys do that!"

"I did not say they do."

"Look at Ollie! He's wearin' those shorts. There ain't no boys creepin' on him."

Oliver suggested, "Let us keep it that way."

"Stop moving!" The girl painting Allen's hand snapped. "Unless you want black fingers!"

"Shit, my bad."

Another girl grumbled, "I do not think boys would creep on him for his shorts."

"What d'you mean?" Allen gestured with his free hand to exposed legs. "I don't see why not!"

A few scattered giggles rippled through the crowd. Oliver coughed, looking anywhere else. "You should keep quiet, before you say anything else stupid."

"I wasn't bein' stupid."

"Right." Oliver glared at the paint on his nails, feeling as pink as the polish. The girl streaking the color glanced up, and smirked. He adverted his eyes to the budding branches over their heads.

His friend wreathed on the bench, unable to keep still despite the girl's warning. "I don't get it. If you don't like 'em creepin', why don't you say somethin'? Or punch 'em in the face?"

"I would," one girl said, "but every time I turn around, they have more idiots in their gang. It's really scary when you're by yourself!"

Oliver chewed the inside of his cheek. Just what was his neighbor up to?

"Yeah, all the guys are like, joining in on the racket. It's a shame. Some of them are cute."

Another girl tossed her hair over her shoulder with a little giggle. "I don't see Luciano's little clique getting tied in with them."

"Not yet," Oliver said. The sheer thought of Crookednose's and Luciano's gangs joining to a giant mess was a waking nightmare. "I hope it stays like that."

"And I hope you stay with us, Oliver! You won't go with those stupid...ugh, those stupid, idiotic, dumb morons, would you?"

The boy's grimace flipped up to a nervous smile. "No, why would I do that?"

The eldest girl shrugged. "I dunno. To fit in?

Oliver offered, "Maybe for the companionship?" The girls handed him strange looks, and he quickly added, "I mean, that is what I would look for."

"You have that here, though."

"I know, I know! I was just saying _if_ I were to join in on the 'fun.' Not that I plan on doing so!"

"Good." They relinquished their prickly gazes back to painting each other's nails. "So what about you, Allen? Are you planning on doing anything stupid?"

The other boy let out a rumble of giggles. "Ooh, and have a bunch of crazy ladies come after me? I'll try to be cool, but in the end," he give Oliver's shoulder a shove with his own, "I'm with Ollie."

Some of the girls tittered, and Oliver used the hand that was not being painted to rub his shoulder. They kept looking up at him, always snickering, and he knew they were waiting for him to say something. Allen, too, but instead of being discreet with it, he never dropped his gaze, nor that lopsided grin. The baker had enough unlawful things going on at the bakery. He did not need it back at home. "Well, if that is the case, then you better get used to having your nails painted."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Late into the evening, Oliver had retired to his room, tired from sitting in the sun all day. He went to open the bathroom door, but the fan was whirling, telling him it was in use. The teen stood by, hearing his neighbor making more pained noises over his infamous stomach aches. It was difficult to imagine such a recluse causing trouble. He lightly knocked on the wood.

"Ugh, what?!" His neighbor snapped. "I'm busy!"

"I need to ask you something."

Again, "I'm busy!"

"When you are done being busy!" Oliver spat with equal venom. He marched to his bed, and flopped on the rickety mattress, peeling off his shoes. "I do not have to be nice. I could be as nasty and vile as other people, maybe even worse, but I am not." He sputtered under his breath, "People should at least be more civil. It is only common courtesy."

The door swung open, and his ramblings cut off. "Huh? Oliver? What did you want?"

Oliver shot from his bed. "You all right? You look as if you are about to fall over."

"Just tell me what you want, okay? Make it quick."

Maybe he was going to fall over, indeed. "Why are you bothering the girls?"

As if it were possible, his neighbor's bent nose crunched further with a sneer. "What are you talking about?"

"They were talking about how some of the boys were bothering them. Especially since the weather is warming, and they would like to wear more suitable clothes, but they feel too uncomfortable with the cat calls-"

"Come on, Oliver, really?" Crookednose sounded so unpleasant when he was snarling. Oliver cut off, gawking at his outburst. "Haven't your balls dropped yet? That's what boys do. They tease girls."

"I-I...well, I suppose," Oliver awkwardly coughed into his elbow. He did not know if he was too afraid to even consider teasing his bench mates, or it simply never crossed his mind. "Can you be more tactful with them, though? They may like you a bit more if you do not make them uncomfortable."

His neighbor straightened against the door frame, his face (or most of it) smoothing to a thoughtful look. "Would you know? You talk and hang out with them a lot, yeah?"

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Yes..."

"Good, good. So you know what they're for and stuff. You're kind of like the secret spy, you know?"

"No, I do not know," Oliver scoffed. "I am not there to peep on girls, for your information, and I am not going to start for anyone."

"Come on, Oliver," the other boy repeated. "You did a great job with getting in and out with that apple business. You have a knack for this kind of thing. I can feel it."

"What in the world are you asking of me?"

"You know, talk us up to the girls. Get them warmed up for us. Maybe you could get them to wear those pretty dresses again. I'm sure you'll appreciate it, too."

Oliver gawked at his neighbor in disbelief. "You want me to...play match maker?"

"Hm, well..." Crookednose turned his gaze to the ceiling, most likely to come up with more sickeningly sweet words.

The other teen would not let him. He pointed to the bathroom door. "Get out of my room."

His neighbor shook his head a bit, as if to register the command. "Excuse me? You don't like that? They already like you-"

"And I am not going to ruin that. Get out."

"Oliver, why are you being like this?"

"Why are you? I swore you were growing on me for a moment or two back there. Now I know you actually were, but not in a good way."

"Not in a..." Crookednose snorted, and it sounded absolutely awful. "I knew it. This is what I get for trying to help one of _your_ kind be a normal person, and do normal _people_ things. Whatever, Oliver, we gave you a chance. If you aren't going to let us help you...then, there's no saying what will happen between us in the near future."

"Resorting to petty threats now because you are not getting your own way?" Oliver stuck his hands on his hips. "And what in the world do you mean _my_ kind? Just what are you implying?"

His neighbor slipped from the door and grabbed the knob. "You seriously don't know? Wow, it would be just awful of me to ruin it for reality to have its way with you."

Oliver's mouth popped open again, but the door slammed behind the other boy with a resonating thump. Another slam sounded, as his own bedroom door was treated harshly by hand. A new kind of guilt made his face flush. Oliver did not wish he had to resort to such crude words, and even hoped to one day be able to call Crookednose a friend, but things loved to _not_ happen the way he planned them to go.

He decided to ignore the other teen for the next several weeks, leading the months around his fifteenth birthday, but secretly waited until he and his pals got over their stupid superiority kick. It only had worsened. Crookednose had sauntered to the bleachers once the warm weather blessed the House to directly hit on the girls while his followers hooted in the background. "It's a shame that all of you won't fit into my bed. Looks like I'll have to visit each of yours! What do you say, girls?!"

The young ladies had proceeded to throw their make up pieces at them, but Oliver swore the boys were grinning at the attention. He caught his neighbor's eye, and they narrowed in the slightest, as if to say, 'Told you so,' about something dumb, before he and his little posse took off with their failed mating calls. When Crookednose acted so stupid, it made Oliver realized he lost potential on the inside. He had not forgotten that he once admired his neighbor, and even wished to impress him, although it was for a short amount of time. However, such was no longer the case, since they took what want, when they wanted it, and even if they did not need it, including the attention and good mood of his lady friends. These boys had fallen to the infamous saying, 'The more the messier.'


	17. Chapter 16

"Oliver, did you do something?"

The boy cracked open his eyes. He smiled and raised a hand to the fairy resting on his pillow, and she tapped her palm against a finger. "I have done many things, Lila. You will need to be more specific." He let out a long yawn as he rose from his bed, back cracking from a great stretch. "It is nice to see you again after so long."

"We're really busy during Spring," she quickly said, hovering before his dreary eyes. "When I came back from the Realm, everything was all...freaky!"

"Freaky?" Oliver glanced to the window, frowning at the dark looming clouds. "Perhaps we are all a bit moody for the upcoming storm."

The fairy stuck her hands on her hips. "I'm being serious for once, Oliver!"

"All right, all right," Oliver rose to his feet. "Allow me to get wake up fully and get dressed, first."

Lila followed the refreshed teen to the dining hall, quietly zipping after him, instead of nuzzling into his hair as she usually did. She muttered, "Hm, it is worse toward this area."

Oliver pushed open the double doors, slowing beneath the frame. "No wonder," he seethed, glowering at the group of boys crowded around his table. Allen was already there, munching on his breakfast and looking up at the others as they spoke only to him. He glanced to the approaching figure, and his slightly concerned expression brightened. "Hey, Ollie!"

At the sound of his name, Oliver's heart jumped. The group of boys snapped to face him, and their own expressions soured. Especially his neighbor's, who gave Allen a light smack on the shoulder, "I mean it, Allen. You could be doing so much better in so many ways."

"Uh-uh, sure. I'll keep that in mind," Allen grumbled as they dispersed, most likely to plague some other poor soul with their boredom induced stupidity. He dropped his focus back to his food, but glanced up in confusion as Oliver still stood, watching him eat. "What's up?"

"What were those boys bothering you about?"

Lila fluttered around Oliver's head, staring at the others leave with glares tossed over their shoulders to his back. She settled in his hair, shrinking from the nasty tang hanging in the air. "It was nothin'. They just wondered what I was up to, an' if I would like to maybe ride some shoppin' cars 'round town...maybe even grab a bite to eat. Sounds great, don't it?"

Oliver spoke between gritted teeth, "What. Did. You. Say. To. Them?"

Allen did not seem to catch his tone of voice. "I told 'em I would think about it. Why?"

Oliver pressed his lips together to prevent snapping at his friend's possible foolishness. He turned on his heel to get something to eat. Once in the kitchen, however, unoccupied by any other at the moment, he let out a long growl he was holding. "Those...how could they?!"

"Whoa!" Lila exclaimed. "Don't forget some butter with that."

Oliver did not forget, and gripped his plastic plate enough to make it squeak between his fingers. "They can get all their little snot nosed friends in the gig, but they do not bother any of mine."

Lila sniffed the air. "Yeah, that'll do it."

"First the girls, and now Allen." The plate snapped, and Oliver gasped, snatching another one before his pastries and fruit would tumble to the floor. He took a self-soothing breath, trying not to bring unnecessary wrath on his breakfast. "The girls were never impressed with them, but _he_..." A horrifying thought slunk through his head. "What if...what if I'm not enough? Do you think that is why he is thinking about becoming a part of their stupidity?"

"What? Ollie, no-"

"I admit, I never really had many friends like this before-"

Lila shot off his head to hover in front of his eyes. She smacked his nose to get him to shut up. "Oliver, you are a good friend. I can back that up. Sure, you may loose your patience easily sometimes, but you give lots of your time and effort into what you do. I'm sure Allen appreciates that, and if he doesn't, punch him!"

Oliver let out a weak little laugh, and raised his free hand to wipe at the wetness pooling in his eyes. "That seems to be your solution more often than I can count."

"It's a good solution!"

"Yes, but what can I do to prevent chasing Allen away?"

"You're _not_ chasing him away."

"Okay, if I was?"

"Oh, that's simple!" Lila said. "You just have to offer more than the other boys do!" She shook her head, "But you're not chasing anyone away!"

Turning to face the doorway, but not leaving the quiet kitchen, Oliver clenched and unclenched his free hand. "What could _I_ possibly offer over a group mentality?"

"Uh, food!" The fairy said as if it were obvious.

"You seriously think food will keep him?"

"You could always rub his back and compliment his eyes, but yeah, I think food will do the trick."

"W-why would I do any of that?"

"Come on!" Lila tugged on his hair. "Before he leaves to do something else." As an after thought, she added, "You'd do that because he has nice eyes, silly! They're very red!" she sang in a terrible tune. Oliver waggled a hand at her to dispel her little song.

"You are so lucky nobody can hear you."

"How is that lucky?!" Lila spat as he approached his usual table.

Oliver set his plate besides Allen's instead of across from him, earning a look of surprise as he settled in his seat. He had to do mini-breathing exercises to try to stop his heart from hammering against his chest at the same time of thinking what to say without sounding like a tosser. The other boy had polished his meal, and was about to rise to throw out his plate, but a hand suddenly gripped his wrist and stopped his tracks. "Allen, when you are done dumping your tray, can you come back here? I-if you do not mind."

The other teen glanced down in surprise. Despite the dreary weather, the dining hall was lit enough for Oliver to realize he _did_ have nice eyes. They narrowed in the slightest with a gentle smile, and Oliver's self-soothing attempts were in vain. "Sure, I can do that." He let go of his friend, and grasped his fork for something to occupy himself. He flipped his fruit over, but did not eat anything. It took a harsh tug of his hair for him to realize Lila had said something against the background conversations.

He flinched from the damage little Lila was capable of inflicting. "Ow! What?!"

"It's not nice to ignore people!" She scolded, and patted the disturbed clumps back into place. "It's going to storm soon. Are you going to be able to make it to Bella's?"

"Of course! Do you think a little rain is enough to stop an Englishman?"

"It's enough to stop me! I can't fly with wet wings!"

"Then I suppose it is a good thing that I will carry you."

"Ollie, are you talkin' to yourself?"

Oliver jumped, not detecting Allen's return. The other boy slid onto the bench, and scooted closer to him to snatch a strawberry from his tray. "N-no!"

"Yeah."

"Fine, yes, I am," Oliver admitted, frowning in lost as his precious fruit was mashed between his friend's teeth, including the stem. Allen made a face, reaching in his mouth to pull out a small leaf, and dropped it on his plate. "That is gross!"

"Come on," Allen wiggled around, his arm rubbing against Oliver's. "I don't have cooties. What did y'want to talk to me 'bout?"

"It is those boys..."

"I told you I'd think 'bout it. That ain't a yes."

"I know that, but..."

"But what?" Allen stole another strawberry. Oliver was not making any motion to eat it anyway.

"I was with them once, even if it was for a little run. They done something cruel, and I followed their footsteps just to fit in, and make them like me. I still think of what happened to this day, and I still feel awful about it!"

"Really? Shit, Ollie, what could you've done?"

Oliver dropped his fork to put his hands in his lap. "I...I..."

Lila urged, "You can do it!"

The boy's cheeks inflamed with intense heat as he quickly confessed, "I help them steal apples from an old man."

Allen stared at him for a long moment, but he did not lift his head to meet his eyes. "Really?" He repeated, not as if he were angry, but as if he did not believe Oliver. "You...stole some old guy's apples?"

"Yes, they knocked his fruit stand down, and it busted into pieces, and we went in while he was still in shock, and they began to grab them from the ground, and I looked up and into the old man's eyes, and I just felt like this horrible creature, and I turned around and ran with the apples-"

"Okay, Ollie-"

"-and they were so proud of me for stealing apples, but I didn't feel happy _at all!_ "

Lila held out her hands to reassure him the same time Allen clasped one of his wrists. "Ollie! Take a chill pill, all right?"

Oliver straightened, and became hyperaware that those stupid tears were leaking out again, right in front of his friend. Lila did not care; she seen more than enough, but Allen was gazing back with that 'He's lost it' expression. He slouched again, and smacked his free hand to a damp cheek to wipe it. "S-see? I'm an awful person, and I don't want you to become one, too! I didn't even need those apples. I eat plenty here already!"

His company loosened his grip on his lower arm to squeeze the back of his hand. "D-do you now?"

The fairy fluttered to Oliver's abandoned breakfast plate, and pointed to the pile of napkins. "Here, wipe your face!"

Oliver took in an ugly and gasping inhale, snatched a napkin, and unceremoniously shoved it in his own face. "Th-that's why I...ugh...don't want them bothering you. They will try to get you in on a nice little outing, and that turns into more favors, and then they will try to use you, and change you to be like them, and-"

"Ollie..." Lila tried.

Allen was more successful to stop the onslaught of near incoherent blubbering. "Ollie, you're doin' the thing with the 'and's' again."

The teen clamped his mouth shut, but his jaw still quivered with his mourning. Allen removed his warm hand, and took the liberty to pilfer another strawberry. Oliver hung his head, realizing how overboard he allowed himself to go, and probably already chased his friend away. An embarrassingly loud exclamation slipped out of his mouth when the other boy slung his arm around his shoulders, and aggressively squished their sides together.

"'s'all cool, Ollie. I know what you're gettin' at. I know that type. Shit, I guess I can say I was that type at some low point in my life."

"B-but they have been causing a lot of trouble during the past several months, and everyone is ahn-annoyed by them. They take what does not belong to them without remorse, and claim they are helping, but I have no idea how. They used to be tolerable fellows at one time, but now...I-I do not want that for the either of us."

"I got what y'mean!" Another strawberry vanished from Oliver's plate, and he then had no more. "You don't gotta worry 'bout that, though, since I'm under heavy watch from the cops, stuff like that would be a perfect excuse fer 'em to nag me. There ain't no way I'm gettin' into that kind o' risky business just fer shits an' giggles."

"O-oh?" Oliver exclaimed in delight.

Allen squeezed his shoulder and winked. "Yeah, sure, it's a nice thought, 'cause every guy needs a bit adventurin' in his life, but this time, it just ain't worth it."

The other boy found himself smiling again. "Maybe we will have to do some adventuring on our own sometime, instead!"

Lila reminded Oliver of her presence, "Count me in! If you can spare the attention..." with little to no prevail. The boy was too busy adoring the way he made Allen grin like that.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

All was well, or at least life acted like it for the summer. Maybe it was the hot weather that distracted the kids more so than usual, or that they were busy taking advantage of the heat to do not be cramped in the House, but everyone, even Miss Warden, was in lighter moods. Oliver, too, deciding that there was no harm in playing with nostalgia, dragged Allen from the property to the nearest park with his own bed cover in tow to lay in the grass and watch the younger kids run around. Sometimes, they even joined in when the others needed more players on their teams.

Lila, of course, visited regularly from the Realm of Spirits during her unconscious hours, bringing mischief and funny fairy stories from her fields. If Oliver's attention poured too much onto the other teen, she would pull his hair, and the boy would have to play off his sudden yelps as if there were bugs biting him. He was not sure if Allen had bought the excuse, but he laughed anyway.

If he had let Crookednose down, politely or not, neither of them mentioned anything to Oliver, who was rather glad they did not. He and his friend had better things to do than worry about troublemakers, and the baker was positive his neighbor had other stuff on his mind during those warm days than annoy his friends.

His friends, the girls on the bleachers, were glad that Crookednose's posse let up their antics, but that opened up more time and attention to Oliver. They were not pleased about being neglected, and had not allowed the boy on the bleachers as they demanded an explanation from him. Oliver had to stand before them, like a child standing before his parents after his hand was caught in the cookie jar. "You haven't sit with us in...how long has it been?

"Eleven days," another hissed.

"Eleven days! You are so far behind!"

"W-well I-I have work, and m-my boss is teaching me how to drive-"

"Okay, how about the other half of the day? Our time out here is very limited before winter sets in! The benches are going to be too cold to sit on in a matter of a month or two!"

"Yes, I know, I know..."

"If you know, then why aren't you up here?"

Another girl yowled, "Who's the bitch that stole you away?!"

Oliver choked a little at the girls' collective wrath. Before he could get a valid answer out, another one spat, "Is it someone we know? Or is it someone from outside? Is that why you sneak out all the time?!"

"You got to be careful! She might be a gutter rat!"

"Or have other guys!"

"No!" Oliver stammered, "I-I am not sneaking out! I have been hanging out with Allen, getting out of the House! Th-the weather is nice!"

A wave of silence hushed the crowd. "Wait," one whispered. "Did you say Allen? That dorky guy that comes up here to mooch food from us?"

Oliver nervously pulled on his own fingers, and nodded.

"Oh!" One girl threw her hands up in the air with mock surprise, "That chummy boy Allen thinks he can just pull you away from us!"

"W-well, no, it sort of the other way around." As soon as the words were out of Oliver's mouth, he sucked in a sharp breath, and winced.

The girls bristled. " _Oh, really?_ "

"Oh dear," the baker muttered to himself, wondering what he had just unleashed upon himself. Much to his surprise, however, a few snickers snuck through the crowd. He looked up with raised eyebrows. "Is...is there something funny?"

The eldest girl held out her hands to quiet everyone down. "Girls, girls, please. I think I know what's going on here." Her eyes flickered to Oliver, and waited an intense moment for a smirk to stretch across her face. "You two got a thing going on."

"What thing?"

The bleachers came alive with whoops and cackles as the girls latched onto one another in desperate attempts to save themselves from laughing too hard. Heat plagued Oliver inside and out. He asked louder, more agitated, "What thing?!"

One girl clapped her palms on her knees. "You two got the couple thing going on! Oh-ho! That's great!"

"Well, crap! That explains everything!"

Oliver shouted over their giggles and snorts, "We are _not_ a couple!"

"Stop lying!"

"I'm not!"

"Oh yeah? Do we have to get Allen over here and prove it?"

It was _so not funny_ to be on the receiving end on all that gossip and teasing he loved to do with his lady friends. Gritting his teeth so he would not say something scathing, Oliver managed to spit out, "That will not be necessary, girls."

"Prove it, then!"

"I will! Next time I see him, I am going to ask!"

The girls promised, "We'll be looking forward to it!"


	18. Chapter 17

"That's a fairly large circle, Oliver. What gives?"

The boy rose from kneeling on his bedroom floor, gazing at his work in fondness. "I have been wanting to try something."

"Like those pumpkin spice cupcakes Anabella plans on making? It's almost that time of the year!"

"Almost," Oliver agreed. How fast the warm months love to fly by! His chalk repeatedly scratched across the cold floorboards, pausing every now and again for him to glance at the magic book that was opened on the ground. He weaved around the large symbol, etching different emblems along the outer circle. "Where do you think I should go?"

"When?"

"Soon. After this is done."

"You should go outside! It is a nice day out!"

"Yes, but unfortunately, that will not last. During this time, a month from now, the leaves will be brown and grey."

"You got to while it lasts!" Lila insisted.

"Outside it is. I like the tree by the rear gate. It is thick enough to hide from everyone else."

"You mean hide from those girls?"

"Just from everyone," Oliver tried to assure the fairy, but his voice cracked.

"Yep! I knew it! You're hiding from them, aren't you?" When the boy did not reply verbally, his ears going red instead, Lila gloated, "It isn't fun when the tables turn on you, huh!" She cried out in surprise as Oliver settled in the middle of the sigil and crumbled the remaining slither of chalk to dust.

"I have to concentrate, if you don't mind." The teen closed his eyes, sitting rigidly. His fairy friend decided to be quiet and let him focus on ignoring the muffled clanks and voices of the other inhabitants. He thought about his position, how it was, where it was, and where he wanted to be. Lila twitched, most likely from the stiff atmosphere, and gave a little jump when the teen began chanting.

The chalk shifted, unsettling at his words. A cool gust disturbed Oliver's auburn strands around the fairy, and he erupted in breathy laughter from her yelp of surprise. "It is not teleportation; it is summoning oneself to another place. You are sending yourself somewhere else."

"So it _is_ teleportation," Lila said. She shuffled around, and gazed at the back yard of the House.

Unconsciousness hit Oliver so strongly, he could not make a noise against it. He felt himself lean backwards without his consent, and the fairy launch herself from his head. "Oliver? Hey, Oliver!" A light weight settled on his cheek, but he could not respond to Lila's concern as a wave of black reeled him in without a chance to fight back.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Oliver came to with a light humming from his side. His eyes fluttered against a touch brushing against his temple. He grunted unattractively, trying to ask Lila what happened, but he heard stupid sounds come out of his mouth instead of coherent words.

"Ugh," Oliver slumped his head to the side, and his eyes completely opened in surprise. "Wh-what..."

Allen was laying in the grass, too, his head propped up by an elbow, and his other hand shrunk back to his stomach. "Hey, you're awake! You were just chillin' out here all by yourself. So, I was thinkin' that I should lay out here, too, so you wouldn't be all alone."

Alone; Lila was nowhere in sight. The baker wondered if she panicked when he passed out, and fled, or simply woke back up to the Realm, not seeing a point in hovering over an unconscious body. He did not dote on it, instead worrying about what was happening right then and there.

"Oh." Oliver furrowed his eyebrows together as he studied the other's soft smile. "How thoughtful," he murmured unthoughtfully. The grin widened, exposing pearly teeth, and pricked his stomach with a warm sensation. Then, in growing horror and widened eyes, he remembered why he was trying to avoid human contact with anyone within the House's perimeters. It was inevitable, despite his lousy efforts to hide. The girls had to have spread the gossip; it would be very unnatural for them to resist. No one was safe from the dreaded rumors, even within the group, including himself. There was no doubt that even Miss Warden has heard something foul at sometime in her hostel, but never made a word against it.

Allen made a noise of confused thought from his silence, and flopped onto his back, staring at the sky. "Did y'have a nice nap?"

Oliver let out a wimpy laugh. "If you call it a nap."

"I don't get it."

"You do not have to."

"Okay, I guess." After a moment of watching the lazy clouds, Allen suddenly said, "Hey, Ollie, why are you here? I'm talkin' 'bout the specifics."

He made it to be a prison sentence. Perhaps it was, with fake freedoms, and inner turmoil, even in times that were superficially peaceful. Either way, Oliver was glad to get his thoughts on a different track. "My mother dropped me off here around a year ago. She was supposed to come back, but she never did."

"She didn't want you?!"

Oliver was startled by his friend's strong reaction. "N-no. Err...she led me here to keep me safe, while she was captured by the police in the belief she was responsible for my father's disappearance."

"Whoa!" Allen turned over to face him again. "Was she?"

"Yes, in a way, but she did not kill him. However, the police did not know that, and could not know that."

"Why not?"

"She wanted to keep me safe," Oliver quietly repeated. "Once he would return, she would be released, but he never came back."

"How come, Ollie?"

"He is dead." Oliver quickly added, "I think he is, and because of that, she will remain in prison forever."

"And in turn, you'll stay here?"

"Yes."

"You know, I'm kinda glad." When Oliver flopped to his side to give him a questioning look, Allen grinned. "Matt an' I were always on the run. We never really hunkered down an' stayed in places fer long, so we never really made any pals 'long the way. Here, we got everythin' we need, so we don't hafta worry 'bout that stuff."

"What was chasing you?"

Allen snorted. "The police."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, all the time. It really got on my nerves."

"Allen."

"Yeah?"

"Why were the police chasing you?"

"Oh, that sounds like I'm a bad guy, doesn't it?" Allen gave his chest a nervous rub as a deep giggle rumbled against his hand. "We stole food an' blankets from people's homes and stores. If it makes it better, it wasn't fer funsies. It was fer survival. All o' those people had all this stuff, an' at the time, we needed it more than they did. So when that stuff with that Crooked fella sprung up, the last thing I wanted to do was get back into that shit."

"They do not even need to do what they do. They claim they do, but really, they don't. I am not entirely sure that they even know that they do not have to do what they do...if that makes any sense." When Allen glanced over at him in alarm, Oliver quickly added, "Sorry, but I feel rather strongly about this."

"Wit' all good reason to! Those kinds o' fellas give people like us that had to do bad things just to keep livin' a bad name...a worse name than we already have."

"That is horrible." Oliver's eyes widened when his friend lifted his head in an inquisitive gesture. "I mean it is horrible that you had to do all of that. Where were your parents?"

"We don't got any."

"Everyone has parents!"

"A lot of kids, don't, Ollie. Your ma took care of you, probably hugged you, an' smiled at you. My mom, when she was around, looked at us as if it was our fault fer her gettin' knocked up with twins."

"That is awful! What about your father? Was he around?"

Allen shrugged as much as he could in his sideways position. "Dunno. He could be anyone, knowin' my ma." He mashed his eyebrows together. "Ollie? Are you cryin'?"

"No." Oliver drug his fingers over his eyes, glaring at the wetness on his fingertips. "Ugh, okay, don't laugh at me." He pinched the fabric against his shoulder to wipe the tears clinging to his lashes, and claimed, "Oh gosh, look at me, such a crybaby. No, wait, do not look at me. Look somewhere else."

The other teen had not said anything, and he removed his hands over his eyes in worry that he chased Allen away. He stayed, gawking at Oliver has if he was frozen to the spot. Oliver swished a palm in front of his eyes, and his friend blinked, cracking a dazzling grin at the gesture. "I'm still here. Don't you worry, Ollie."

"I thought you fell asleep."

Allen wedged his hands beneath his head. "Naw, I was just thinkin' how lucky I am to have you 'round."

Oliver blamed his warm feelings on his embarrassment. He playfully rolled his eyes, and grinned despite the damp trails streaked down his cheeks. "If you keep saying things like that, people are going to think...things."

"Things?!" The other boy beamed right back at him. "Like what?"

"Oh, please, I rather not say it aloud."

"Come on, why you got to be like that?"

"It is dreadfully embarrassing."

"We're all friends here, aint' we?"

"Actually...that's the thing."

Allen picked up his head again. "What? You don't wanna be friends?!"

"No, no! Goodness, I still do. It is just..." Trying to get that awkward lump down his throat, Oliver nervously giggled. "People are starting to think we are...some sort of couple."

The other teen let out a snort with his laugh. " _Hanck!_ Ha-ha! J-jeez, that's somethin'..."

Oliver dropped his eyes to the blue grass between them. "Yes," he murmured, mostly to himself, and his smile felt like it was dried plaster, "that's just silly-"

"What d'you think?"

"Huh? A-about what?"

"You know what." Despite his cool-guy grin and casual shrug, Allen's cheeks were becoming noticeably pink against his tanned skin. "Does it really seem like we are?"

"Does it...?" Oliver clamped his mouth shut, and looked to the grass again, as if it had all the answers. He wanted to go with his gut-instinct like he always should have done in the first place, but the boy had no idea what it was saying with all the crazy knots and flips it was performing. However, as much as he wished to pretend he was stewing over new feelings, he had these butterflies for months. Allen raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. "Um...yes."

His company's face lit up like a bowl of candy was dumped on his head, and he had a major sweet tooth. "Yeah?"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Well, shit, I wanna say yeah."

"R-really? How come?"

"How come? How come?!" Allen lightheartedly demanded as if Oliver was supposed to know the answer. He tipped his head back to ponder at the sky. "Uh...maybe it's got to do with the fact that I've been flirtin' wit' you the first day we met, I got incredibly low standards, an' you're like, the only fella that's possibly an' remotely interested in me?"

A funny noise tickled the back of Oliver's throat, and he busted in laughter. "Bwahaha! You...ha-ha! That was you flirting? Ha-ha-ha!"

Allen shot to a sitting position, turning red and angry. "Okay, okay, you don't gotta laugh!"

Oliver followed suit, and clutched his stomach. "You dork! I cannot help it-ha-ha-ha!"

"Seriously! I just poured my heart out to you, man! You could at least tell me that you don't like me like _that_ instead o' laughin'!"

"Ha-ha...ha...ahem! What, why would I do that?"

"Uh...'cause you don't?"

Oliver bristled, "I never said that!"

Allen leaned back and blinked. "Well...do y'like me?"

Suddenly it was no longer giggles and happy times. Oliver dropped his eyes to his hands twisting and untwisting with one another, and his face, his open book with size fifty-two bold print for everyone to see, flared red again. "I...I do not know."

The other boy let out an annoyed growl, lunged forward, and grabbed his shoulders to give them a fierce shake. "Whadda mean y'don't know? How do you not know these things? You either do or don't!"

Oliver's voice squeaked from the thrashing, "U-um, well, frankly, I never been in this spot before!"

Allen let go to throw his hands into the air, and roughly fall back on his rear. "Well, shit, I haven't either! That don't mean you gotta be clueless to what you're feelin'!"

The baker shoved a palm to the other boy's chest. "I am not clueless to what I am feeling, you idiot!"

His company shoved him back, and Oliver had to catch himself before he could fall backwards to the ground. "Then what are you feeling?"

That was easy! Oliver had read plenty of fruity novels by that point to know what was unfolding. Realization was actually the easy part; admitting to oneself was where he proved to be stubborn to himself and Allen during these warm months. He cracked a broad grin, and stamped a foot on the ground in his friend's direction out of retaliation. "I am feeling that you are an idiot!"

Allen clasped his bare calf to get him to stop kicking at him. "Yeah, I know that, but are you gon' let me be your idiot or not?"

"Be my...? Ha-ha-ha!" Oliver's free leg kicked up and down as his laughter bounced off the sparse trees.

"Or be mine? Some kind o' partners in crime sort o' deal?! Just...stop laughin'!"

"Do you know how dorky you sound? I thought you were supposed to be a cool guy!"

"I _am_ a cool guy!"

"You are not!" Oliver hunched forward to smack Allen's chest again, but the other boy grasped his wrist, deterring his pathetic attacks. Their closeness was an intoxicating bloom, and the baker could not stop giggling like the poison was a high. "You...ah-ha-hee-hee! You're a dork! Just admit to it! Dork!"

"All right, fine, but what good does that get me?"

"Actually, Allen, that gets you into a lot of good! I just so happen to have a soft spot for dorky guys."

"What."

Oliver tittered at his company's lost expression, and took the opportunity of his stunned slack to flip over and shamble away on his hands and knees. From stirring up dropped leaves, he heard Allen call out, "What? No, what the fuck! Get back here!"

It was a grand escape, but it was too easy to imagine a hot pursuit when the only sounds in his ears where his palms hitting the ground and his own pants in his ears. Apparently, Oliver was more clumsy and slower than he realized, as a rough arm slung around his waist, and yanked him backwards. His back fell against what could only be Allen's chest, and only laughed harder when his arms were pinned to his sides. "Seriously," the other boy's exasperated voice grumbled next to his ear, "where did you think you were going?"

"Oh, around and about, ha-ha!"

"Hah...yeah, right. You tell me somethin' like that, an' then try to make a break fer it? What kind o' game you tryin' to play?"

"A very fun one!"

That only made Allen squeeze him tighter. "You're crazy, aren't you?"

The kisses dotted across his cheek and to his ear prompted Oliver to flinch and giggle like an even greater fool. "I have been told that!"

"Probably 'cause you are!"

"And you are a dork!"

"Crazy!"

"Can't...breathe...dork...You're squeezing me...too hard!"

Still Oliver could not stop smiling about the whole ordeal.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

However, no matter how much he wanted to run, hide, and never come out to face them, the teen had to go back to the girls on the bleachers later on that evening. They were still outside, although the sun was about to set any minute, making last minute touch ups on their nails, and waiting for Oliver.

None of them picked up their heads when he approached, even though his shoes noisily disrupted the leaves all the way from the House's front door. The boy stopped before the bottom bench, and gazed up at the eldest girl in the middle of the group, nodding in approval to her own paint job. He could feel the guilty smile plastered on his face before she even opened her mouth.

"So! What news did you bring, Oliver? Anything we would like?"

"That depends," Oliver began carefully, but knew he was doomed no matter what. "What do you like?"

"Well, I like for the guy I brought from who knows what kind of low point to stay with us, and not ditch us for the shiny new toy after we have given him our time and energy to get a grip on himself."

The boy let out a frightened little laugh. "Of course! I would _never_ forget that!"

"Good," the eldest granted. "Now do us all a favor, and tell Allen you were ours first. I know this is a very exciting thing for the both of you, but completely ditching your friends for a little love bird is just plain rude, and I won't appreciate you crawling back to us when you two are over."

Oliver uneasily offered, "Ah, ha-ha, you must be speaking from experience."

The girl lifted her eyebrows, and gave him a blank look. "Yep. Plenty of it."

"Oh dear. Um...how about the next time I get to take home a huge batch of treats from the bakery, I shall bring them right to you?"

The girls seemed to appreciate the offer. "You sure know how to win someone's heart, don't you, Oliver?"


	19. Chapter 18

Fall had lazily strolled into Italy when Anabella whipped up something special in the bakery. The journey from the House was the usual one, but when Oliver arrived to his workplace, a waft of a heavy scent blew in his face, and he had to stop in the middle of the room to take a deep inhale. Anabella had drifted from the kitchen to investigate the newcomer, and grinned at the sight of her worker. He opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at her smile.

"That good?"

Oliver eagerly nodded.

"I made so many pumpkin spice cupcakes, I am afraid I do not have the stomach for them."

"Oh, but I do know plenty of people who do."

Anabella chuckled, and beckoned him to the kitchen. "Good. While they cool down, we need to pick up more confectioner's sugar at the food market. I want to see you behind the wheel on the way there."

The teen smiled and bobbed his head again. She shuffled back into the kitchen, and he automatically followed, lulled by the scent of early autumn. "I suppose we should start the icing, so we do not have to when we come back."

"Good, good," the elder wheezed, turning away from him to cough. Oliver's grin weakened, but he did not say anything as he dug around the cabinets for appropriate ingredients. He was aware of Anabella watching him work diligently, as she rested against the counter. "Keep this up, and you can run the bakery all by yourself!"

"I would not say that yet..."

"Ah, but you may soon," Anabella winked. She opened her mouth to say more, but a pained wheeze came out instead of words. A hand flew to her lips, and she turned away from Oliver, who dropped his whisk in horror. She leaned over the sink, gripping the rim enough for the blue veins in the back of her hands to bulge out with her heaving.

"Bella!" The boy exclaimed, and hurried over to her to pat her back. "It is all right, just get it out..." he trailed off, gawking at the blobs of red at the bottom of the basin. She took a shuddering breath, pulling away for the roll of paper towels. He grimaced as he turned on the faucet, watching the red run into the water, and slip down the drain. "Bella, we should go see a medical examiner-"

"Who's we?" The old woman snapped, crumbling the paper towel she used to wipe her mouth. "There is no need for drastic measures!"

"You are coughing blood!"

Anabella sharply pointed out, "Oliver, people become sickly at my age."

"That does not mean you have to suffer!"

"Enough," her voice crumbled, and she stuck the paper towel to her mouth, coughing again. "You are not the sickly one. Do not concern yourself with my problems."

Oliver knew that was easier said than done, but kept quiet so he would not upset his boss, his friend. He walked back to the house with more than a dozen of pumpkin spice cupcakes, only growing more hungrier from the warmth seeping out of the bottom of the plastic container. The scent must have pleased another nose, and as soon as the front gate closed, the fluffy chimera inched down a tree, wiggling its tail in greeting to the boy. He averted his course to the front door, and approached the tree.

"Apple?"

"Not this time." Oliver peeled the lid away, and lifted a cupcake out of the batch. "This is a cupcake. It is a delicacy," he explained, pulling the wrapper away awkwardly as he held onto the container, and held it out to the cat-monkey. The chimera gazed at the treat, and reached for it uncertainly. "All for you," the boy assured. Once it started nibbling, savoring instead of snatching its meal, he asked, "Do you like it?"

"I am eating it, am I not?"

Oliver giggled, clamping the container shut. "Do you have a name?"

The cat-monkey shoved the rest of the cupcake in its sharp mouth, gulping with a satisfied grumble. "One only needs a name if they are called upon."

"I assume nobody talks to you a lot, then?"

"Not until recently."

"Since I do, may I give you a name?"

The chimera tilted its fluffy head, almost laying it on its shoulder. "You would do that?"

"Yes! How about Gizmo?"

"Githmo?"

"Gizmo, with a Z."

"Githmo," the cat-monkey repeated quickly, unable to replicate the exact noises with its fangs. "You may refer to me as such if you with to speak to me."

"Thank you. I will-"

"Ah, I nearly forgot," Gizmo twitched, tossing a glance to the House. "Those...malcontented children are performing their antics again. You see, the cooler weather heightens animalistic drives, and I believe they were hunting that mate of yours. They went into that building, and I have not seen them since."

Oliver gasped, "Since when?"

"Since a few moments ago."

"Oh!" Oliver spun on his heel, throwing a thanks to Gizmo, and hurried to the porch. "What in the world-" He choked on his anger when a shadow fell on the front door's window.

Gizmo called from its perch, "Get back!"

Oliver clenched his container of cupcakes, and ran backwards a few paces as the wood paneling burst open with a body flying onto the porch. The kid groaned, wreathing from the impact. It was one from his neighbor's posse. The plastic squawked from Oliver's furious grip as he glared at his Housemate. More boys dashed out of the small opening, carrying panicked cries, and almost trampled over their fallen comrade. One even dove over the railing, yelping in fright as if his jeans were ablaze. The last streaked out of the House with a hand clamped over his ear. A trail of blood seeped pass his palm, and he dashed away after nearly tripping down the stairs as if Oliver was not there.

"Gosh, who has done this?" Oliver murmured, but the boy sprawled on the porch flopped to his side, whining from unseen pain.

A new figure stepped into the doorway, glaring at the body trembling beneath him. Allen's brother, Matt, of all people, moved his jaw as if he had something in his mouth. He held the object between his teeth for a moment, and the coward picked up his head with soft whimpers. The blond spat the object out, metal clattering onto the wood right before the boy.

"Your friend forgot his earring."

The boy screeched, scrambled to his feet, and quickly limped after his scattered buddies. Without the usual shades covering his face, Oliver could meet Matt's dark and dull gray-violet eyes, and the awful bags underlining them portending his attitude. He stepped to the side, revealing that he was gripping a battered broom. The plastic rod was nearly bent in half. Oliver did not know what to say; he was too impressed.

"Wow," was all he could manage.

"Yeah. If you see any of those assholes acting up again, send them my way."

Oliver beamed. "It will be my pleasure. Thank you."

Matt grunted, his eyes flickering away as another face wedged between him and the doorframe. "For what?"

Allen beamed and flapped a hand at Oliver. "For what? You totally kicked those guys asses. Come on, bro, I mean, I know I'm pretty awesome and shit, but they're are like, gangin' up on me like I was some piece o' meat." He looked to the other teen and called out, "Hey, baby!"

"Hi, Allen," Oliver called back curtly. "What in the world do you mean they were ganging on you?"

The other teen slipped onto the porch, and tossed his arms from his sides in a confused gesture. "I dunno! I was just chillin' out, an' they came into the lounge to start talkin' to me. Then they started sayin' all this stupid shit, gettin' me mad, so I had to punch one o' 'em in the face."

"Oh, goodness! You all right?"

Matt heavily sighed, and propped the battered broom against the entrance's wall. "You stepped on a hive of hornets, that's what you did."

"Yeah, 's'all good now. Lucky fer me that you were 'round, Matt! Thanks, man!"

"It was lucky," his brother irritably snapped, "but next time, you won't be as lucky."

Oliver's eyes drooped to the large container in his hands. He was certain Allen could be easily provoked, but those boys must have been asking for it. They had to either be very bored with themselves, or were out for something. The baker had little to no idea what they could have possibly want from him or any of his friends.

Allen's gaze zoned on the container he protectively gripped, and bounded off the porch. "Are those cupcakes?!"

"Uh, yes, they are. Oh!" Oliver exclaimed in delight when the other teen leaned over to plant a big, wet smooch on his cheek.

Allen turned to holler at his brother, "Hey, Matt! Ollie's got cupcakes!"

Matt immediately became animated. "Really? What kind?"

The baker pinched the lid, making it groan from the treatment. "They are pumpkin spice, but I should really give these to the girls. I sort of owe them-"

"Pumpkin spice?" Matt raised his eyebrows. "Holy shit, that's like the nectar of the Gods. Are you willing to share? I need to get the taste of pig blood from my mouth."

Oliver glanced to the bleachers wedged in the corner of the property's fence. The girls were not present, most likely scattered from the cool weather and evening darkness. If these boys gobble these goods up, then they will be none the wiser of their existence. "I am not going to eat all of these," Oliver shook the plastic, and both pairs of eyes were trained on treats inside. "Allen might, so make sure you get some for yourself."

"Let's eat them in the dining hall," the blond suggested, and hurried to the porch, leaving the others to follow him.

"Umf! I'm so excited!" Allen exclaimed. "Did Anabella make 'em?"

"Yes, she did."

"How she doin'?"

Oliver grimaced. "Not good, Allen."

The other boy lowered his flapping hands. "What'd you mean?"

"She was...coughing up blood earlier."

"Shit, really?"

"Yes, really," Oliver replied almost tersely. Miss Warden pushed the dining hall door from the other side, giving the pair a curious look, but went for her desk without a word. "She says that is what happens to people her age, but I cannot help but worry. She is a friend."

Matt was already sitting at a long table coming from the farthest and most secluded wall. His brother settled beside Oliver, giddy as he peeled off the lid, revealing the treats. The blond spoke up, "Oh, someone else may sit with us. I'm going to give him some of mine."

"That is all right," Oliver said, dishing out the pastries. "Everyone has plenty, even if I split it four ways, and make sure you peel off the wrapper before shoving it in your mouth, Allen."

Just as he was about to do that, Allen took his cupcake from his face, and tugged on the paper. Matt seemed piqued how Oliver did not have to look to know his brother was doing something stupid. "You willingly put yourself through that?"

"Oh, you know about us?"

"Al never shuts up about you."

Allen gaffed, crumbs flying onto the table. He snagged an arm around Oliver's waist, and proclaimed with his mouth still full, "This my babe!"

His brother keenly observed, "No shit."

Oliver held a hand against the nose nuzzling his jaw. "You are going to get icing all over me!"

Matt loudly cleared his throat, nodding to something behind them. "Hey."

The duo turned their heads to the newcomer, staring at him in subtle shock as he seated beside the blond. Siegmund moved his hands expertly, and jerked his chin to them. He pointed at the cupcakes in front of him, tipping his head.

"Um," Oliver gave himself a little shake from his gaze. "Matt said he was expecting somebody. Those are yours."

Siegmund nodded and shoved one in his mouth almost as sloppily as Allen did. Matt was glaring at a wall to the side, so he nudged his shoulder and signed. It was all strange movement to Oliver. The blond turned back to him, watching the motion, and replied, "I'm fine."

"Matt," Oliver asked, "When did you learn sign language?"

"I've been learning," Matt said, looking to the wall again. Oliver glanced to the panel and wallpaper, but did not see anything out of the ordinary.

Allen stared at the mute, looking puzzled. "Why are y'here wit' us?" From a sharp glare from his brother, he quickly added, "It's just that you're wit' Luciano's lil' gang most o' the time."

"So?" Matt challenged, "He can hang out with us if he wants."

Siegmund agreed with a furious chomp on his cupcake, directed at Allen, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Oliver clasped his hands together when a brilliant thought popped in his head. "Maybe we can hang out with him, and in turn, Luciano's little friends!"

Allen choked on a cupcake. "Little friends? Have you seen that Lutz guy? His arms are bigger than your legs!"

Matt swiped a wrapper from the table and lamely tossed it at his brother. "I thought you and Luciano used to butt heads."

Oliver wagged his head side to side in thought of the first time he had the (questionable) opportunity to meet the crazy Italians before bumping into any one else in the House. "Yes, we used to. We have been more...should I say civil, with one another."

Allen snatched the assaulting cupcake wrapper, launched it at Matt, and it landed on top of his head. Matt crossed his arms, going on as if it was not nestled in his hair, "That's good, I guess. I'm sure they won't mind, or at least prefer you to hang with them as opposed to those other assholes."

Oliver glanced to the other two teens and shrugged. "I say I would rather it be that way as well."


	20. Chapter 19

Oliver was awakened a heavy handful of mornings after with a small weight leaping around on his pillow. The boy growled, coming to consciousness he managed to flee from after being pulled by the bakery, the girls on the benches, and Allen devouring his attention until late hours of the night before he was chased out of the room with a fierce throw of a pillow. "I swear, if you crept into my room again, I am going to use this pillow to smother you."

Light giggling made him crack open his eyes all too soon. He stared at the fairy on his pillow, and muttered, "Is it not too early for you to be sleeping wherever you come from?"

"Uh, you mean the Realm of Spirits? We don't follow what you call 'Time' over there, so there is no 'early' and 'late' for me, silly!"

Oliver released a drawn out groan against his pillow. "It sure seems like it."

The fairy lifted herself from the mattress, and started to tug the blanket from Oliver's shoulder. "Come on! It's time for you to get out of bed!"

"You were just saying how there is no concept of time."

"There is for you! Sprout and bloom, Ollie! You have to go to the bakery!"

It seemed that Lila knew his schedule better than he did, and she was not even from his world! A heavy pressure had settled on his whole body, and he did not want to fight it to rise out of his warm bed. "I rather not, thank you."

His friend fluttered over his head, and settled in front of his face. She pressed a small hand to one of his flushed cheeks, and exclaimed, "What's wrong?!"

"Just...feeling a little nauseated."

"Laying around is not going to help that! Fresh air will!" When the boy kept his eyes closed, tempted to slip back into a doze, her squeaky voice proclaimed, "If you don't get out of this bed, I am going to start pulling on your hair!"

Oliver forced his eyes to open, and smacked his lips. "No, no, that will not be necessary." He gripped the edge of the mattress to pull himself from the covers. Lila put her hands on her hips, nodding approvingly at the progress. The heavy weight against the teen's belly dissipated throughout his dreary morning process, but the pressure clinging to his head lingered, telling him that the most loathsome part of winter was approaching too quickly as it always had done.

"I think I am getting sick."

Lila pointed to an unspecific spot across the room. "If you are going to cough and sneeze, do it over there, and not toward me!"

"Like I would purposely do that!"

"I know, but I'm just telling you so you can keep that in mind and _not_ cough on me!"

Although he did not want to move fast, and jostle himself, Oliver hurried out of the House to avoid talking to anybody. A big dark cloud of gloom shrouded him as he trekked to the bakery. A coal tar even dared to creep on him, attracted to his sickness, and gleefully hissed in his ear. Lila cried in terror over the demon almost being the same size of her, and the boy swiftly smacked it to the concrete with a rough hand.

The fairy joyously announced, "We're here!" as if Oliver did not notice.

He opened the bakery's front door, and a warm gust of wind escaped into the cooler autumn air. It felt so nice and inviting compared to the bite of late autumn. He padded up to the counter, and tapped the new bell his boss must have bought. At the summon, Anabella emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and a smile. "Hello, young man. It is a bit chilly today."

The boy put on his best smile, hoping it would make him feel better. "So you made cookies."

"What else am I to do?" Anabella chuckled, setting the plate on the counter. "Go on, have one," she gestured to the treats before turning back to the doorway. Oliver stared at the cookies.

Lila asked, "Are you going to take one?"

Oliver put a hand over his stomach. "I am not that hungry."

"Eat up! You probably don't feel good because it's been a while since you ate!" In a singsong voice, Lila added, "They smell good! I might take one for myself!"

Oliver gave in, taking a small cookie and nibbled the edges. He was well enough to detect that they were absolutely mouth watering, so he swiped another. His boss emerged with two glasses of milk, nodding in approval. "Nikolai will be here in a hour or so. In the meanwhile, we have a vanilla icing to whip up for a cake today. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, of course." The boy lumbered into the kitchen after tipping his milk back. He glanced at the second milk glass for a quick moment. "Is that yours?"

"No, I am expecting a visitor." Anabella slipped away when Oliver engaged himself in his work.

Lila flew off of Oliver's head as he spun around the kitchen, since the jostling and sporadic turning was shaking her small bones. "I like Anabella! She can be brutal at times, but she has a kind nature about her." She looked up at Oliver churning a batter into a white paste, expecting a response. He heard her voice, but did not listen to what she was saying. "Her petals are drooping, though, Ollie."

At the sound of his name, the boy made a noncommittal grunt. "You ought to stay here when Nikolai swings by. It is not as warm and pleasant in the basement."

Lila huffed, "Did you even hear a word I just said?"

Oliver thoughtlessly murmured, "Yes, yes, of course."

The fairy rose from the counter, pointedly glaring at him, but he never lifted his head from churning the icing mix. "Well, I'm gonna go and see how Bella is doing. At least _she'll_ be more talkative."

The boy raised his eyebrows, and glanced around the room from her disappearance. "Bella can't see or hear you...?"

Neither had not returned by the time the cake was fully frosted. Oliver had even washed the dirty dishes, placed the strawberries on the edge of the dessert, and brought it out to the customer that rung the bell to pick up his order, yet she did not make an appearance. He had not realized he was smiling distantly through the transaction until the man gave him a bizarre look over his shoulder as he left. The baker snorted at his customer's reaction, but lingered behind the counter instead of keeping himself busy.

"I should have stayed in bed," he muttered to himself, and rubbed his forehead irritably as if that would scrub away the looming sensation.

"Oliver! Oliver!" Lila cried out, her cries of panic getting louder as she zipped down the stairs. "Come quickly!"

The boy tensed, spinning around with wide eyes. "What? What is it?!"

"Anabella is coughing again!"

"Lila," Oliver groaned, shoulders slouching, "She has been doing that. She is old."

"It was really bad!"

"All right then," Oliver decided with a heavy sigh. "I will see what she is up to." The fairy latched onto his hair as he pelted up the stairs. "Bella!" He hollered, and ducked into the kitchen. The living room was empty as well. The boy slowed to a cautious walk when he entered the hall leading to the back rooms. The hum of the bathroom light flicked off, and the door creaked open before him.

Anabella stumbled out with the back of her hand over her mouth. She looked up in surprise at the presence of her employee, but her eyes were sorrowed with fatigue. "I must...lie down."

Oliver took her arm into his, and patiently led her to her bed. The mattress was small, appropriate to her, and creaked with age as she settled. The elder slipped off her loafers, and shakily pushed herself to lean against the dark headboard. She focused on leveling her breathing in her most recent bout of coughing, and the intake was ragged against her raw throat.

"Do you need water?"

She raised her light eyebrows. "Oh, would you?"

"Of course." Oliver patted her hands that splayed on the patterned covers, and mustered a reassuring grin. Out of the cramped bedroom, he put a hand to his head again, and sighed. Lila lightly thrashed in his hair, but opted to keep quiet. More coughing leaked into the hall, so he fussed with the water jug for moment before abandoning it on the counter to hurry to her.

The old woman had tucked her pillows behind her back, and the top blanket stretched over her legs. "Thank you, thank you," she said, her hands trembling greatly as she reached for the water. Oliver kept his hand held up in case she slipped. A strange sensation tugged in his stomach. It could be because of illness, or perhaps it was instinct compelling him to help one who needed it.

"I can meet with Nikolai. You should rest for now, and recover."

"You will take care of the bakery, right, Oliver?"

The boy set the half empty cup on the nightstand beside the bed before clasping his friend's cool hand with both of his. "I am not leaving, Bella."

Anabella's cheeks lifted in a tearful smile.

~.~

~BOING!~

~.~

The tunnel was cool and quiet. One of the exposed light bulbs blinked weakly, but its buzzing was overpowered by heavy footsteps approaching. Oliver, seated on one of the benches, clutched a cooling cup as if it were a life sustaining force. The surgeon swung his arm, cracking his bag against the dying light, and giggled how the boy jumped, tea sloshing, from the raining shards of glass.

"We are missing somebody," Nikolai noted, staring down at Oliver through his buggy goggles.

Not meeting his creepy gaze, the baker slung a leg over the other, and tipped the last of his warm drink back before answering. "Anabella is taking a sick day. I will be carrying out her operations."

Nikolai made a drawn out noise of wonder, sending uncomfortable shivers down Oliver's spine. "You should get used to it."

"Implying I am not already used to it?" Oliver raised his eyebrows as two newcomers loudly trampled their way through the tunnel. They bustled by, carrying an oddly shaped body bag from both ends.

"Oh, they came with their own bag," Nikolai said. "How thoughtful."

With an apprehensive sigh, Oliver rose to his feet, and pulled a bundle of cash from his wallet that was stuffed in his trousers. "I do not know what is in there, but give them something for their efforts, will you?"

The surgeon cracked a wicked smile, and swiftly snatched the money with a large hand. "That depends greatly on what they bring me."

"Of course," Oliver sourly replied. The smell of chemicals wafting from his company made him even more queasy, worsened when body bringers flopped the great lump on the table. They swiped their hands on their pants, sharing a grin, and a curt nod. "New faces," the boy swatted a coal tar burying itself in his hair. It hissed threateningly, but did not retaliate as he pushed up the stairs.

"What this?!" Nikolai cried out. "What did you do to him? How do I work with this when his insides are like scrambled eggs?!"

Oliver closed the basement door with a distinct bang. He deposited his tea cup in the sink, and stuck a hand to his forehead, disturbing the settlement of the hair falling near his eyes. He tossed a glance to the untouched glass of milk and cookies.

Lila flew from the upper floor, looking more calmer. She called out a happy greeting to the teen before settling on his head. "She's asleep now. The coughing subsided."

"Thank goodness," Oliver softly smiled. "Now, what to do in the meantime?" His hand lowered and patted his pockets. "Oh! That is a marvelous idea," he told himself. He snuck to the back room, looking around. "Anabella does not use her back door...often."

"What's going on?"

"I am drawing an incantation."

The teen went to work, moving large cleaning supplies from the middle to the back foyer. He tripped over a wooden bat, spitting at its infidelity before bringing the chalk to the floor. A large teleportation sigil took a considerable time to sketch with its details that could not be hastily placed. "If I draw one in my room, I will not have to walk across town in the cold anymore." He stood, surveying his job, and looked up when a muffled ringing sounded from below. "So soon?"

The fairy leaped from her perch, eager to flee from the wave of dank air rising from the basement. The bell rung again as Oliver snapped the door close, and he stamped his heels on the stairs to tell of his arrival. Nikolai's cheeks were deflated with a lack of his usual smile, sunk from a tight tangle of his strong eyebrows. "I am finished...already."

"Already!" Oliver echoed.

"Yes," the operator hissed. "You would not happen to know any young muscle that would bring in the goods?"

Oliver hesitated, gripping the cooler to stall his answer. "When I do, I will send them to you."

"Boys...or girls, that are unafraid of treating death gently."

"I will keep an eye out for them," the baker sniffled from the chemicals covering the stench. He gazed at his reflection in Nikolai's goggles. "I am going to leave now."

Nikolai's smile returned, hidden behind his mask, but his scrunched cheeks told of his expression. He raised a hand, and wiggled bloody fingers in departure, which prompted Oliver to leave as promptly as possible. His strange, huffy laughter followed the teen as he scurried to the steps as quickly as he could with the cooler and the surgeon's eyes on his back. Snatching the keys off their usual hook, he shambled to the car, popped open the trunk, and set the cooler inside. He glanced at the door, contemplating whether to lock the bakery or not. Nobody may steal Anabella, but there were valuable mixes inside, so he swung the door open, and flicked the lock before switching the 'open' sign to its 'closed' side.

Lila especially liked traveling in a vehicle. She moved on the road faster than her wings could muster, and there was no wind blowing in her face as it did when she perched on Oliver's head. The teen, however, was not as delighted. That bright red monster posing as a truck threatened to plow Anabella's tiny sedan for more than half the trip. Apparently, Oliver was at fault, earning a drawn out honk as the other driver whipped around a bend, all for driving cautiously.

"Driving is such a drag!" Spittle flew out of Oliver's mouth as another road burner shot in front of him. His face was flushed with growing sickness, then anger, and his destination was only a couple of blocks from the bakery. The usual medical personnel waited beneath the bus stop roof, munching on their lunches. They squinted and blinked at the familiar car pulling to the sidewalk, as if trying to make sense of the world.

"Where's Anabella?" One of the doctors slurred, still suffering from a merciless hangover, based on the bags under his eyes. His burrito did nothing to help him.

"Who cares?" The woman snapped. "He's got the goods. Come here, kid."

Oliver opened the trunk, and reached for the cooler. "It may not be the best batch today."

The doctors exchanged a skeptical look as he set the cooler on the walkway. Louis snorted, "It is still guts, _oui_? As long as we can use them." He reached into his breast pocket, and produced a decent sized wad of cash. Oliver smiled expectantly as the blond held the money between his index and middle finger, then growing horrified as the man suddenly lifted the hem of his vest, and tucked the sum in his waistline. The baker shoved his shirt back into place with a scoff of disbelief. He tried scooting away, but light fingers danced beneath his chin, causing him to look up to the doctor's eyes. "I wonder how much that smile is worth on the market."

Oliver's face flushed, and he gently swatted Louis' hand away. "It is not for sale."

"Come on, _amigo_ ," the other guy flapped his arms. "Fifteen is not much better."

The lady took the cooler because her companions had not made a move to do so. "Let's go. We have organs to deliver, boys."

Oliver spun away from the strange people, escaping into Anabella's car. He started the engine, and pulled the money tucked into his trousers, and slipped it into his pocket. The teen glanced at the doctors, and stared at Louis swaying after his companions.

"Ollie?" Lila grabbed his ear, and lightly yanked on it. He snapped his head in her direction, blinking out of his gaze. "I have to wake up now. You'll be careful driving back to the bakery, all right? If you don't feel good, you better lie down or I'm going to pull your eyebrows out!"

"Please do not do that."

"Then get some rest."

She was only looking out for him, in a semi-aggressive way. Oliver's smile was twitchy, "We will see each other again soon."

"Really? Okay, I look forward to it!" His friend shimmered away in a clump of glittering dust, and the car was quiet once more besides the humming of the heat component.

He wanted to go to bed, but he had responsibilities, first. "Yes, yes of course." Oliver gave himself a shake, jostling his dizzy head and the sluggish feelings filling his abdomen. When he slipped out of Anabella's car in front of the bakery, he swiped the back of his hand pass his forehead, and claimed, "I did it without folding myself around a traffic light!"

The teen ignored the closed sign, not in the mood to attend to customers. He was certain Bella was not, too. He tried to inhale the eternal scents of baked goods, but his nose had clogged to get in the way. It was one of the worse tortures he went through! Then again, being sick was awful just by itself. "Every winter," Oliver grumbled, pinching his nose to relieve the stuffiness a tad bit. The previous winter was very mild, so the boy had gotten away with minimal sniffling. However, that current one had him wanting to be wrapped in a thick, hand sewn blanket from his grandmother, and coddled with hot soup. Of course, he would have to get the soup himself, but just a small hint of chill was enough to get him shivering. He stopped by the front counter, gawking at the empty plate littered with crumbs, and the glass with old milk lines sloshed on the side.

Oliver cleared his throat with an ugly cough. "Perhaps...Bella was hungry."

The floor creaked from above. "That should be Bella," Oliver insisted to himself. "I locked the front door before I left, it was still locked when I came back. Yet the milk and cookies are gone, so that is the feasible explanation." His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. He wondered if grabbing the stick from the back room was an overreaction.

Oliver snuffled, and turned for the kitchen. His symbol waited for use, but he only glimpsed at it, going for the wooden bat. "Ugh, this thing is so thick! How can anyone hold it?" Another floorboard softly squawked, making him jump. "As long as I can give some bugger what he deserved, then I can work with it."

His footwear clanked on the hardwood floors, so he quietly slipped them off, leaving them at the bottom of the steps. With a great sniffle to clear his breathing, Oliver crept up the stairs, and paused at the top. He crouched against the wall splitting the living room and stairwell, tensing at the flurry of footsteps resonating across the back of the apartment. They were too certain and too quick to belong to Anabella. The teen was glad he brought the bat with him. The feet skirted back to the kitchen, and his hand started to sweat, earning small squeaks against the smooth material.

The intruder grumbled, but the words were too low to distinguish what they were, or who said it. He or she dropped something in the sink, and looped back to the living room. Oliver had no idea what the intentions of this invader were, so he glimpsed around the corner to see if they were snatching anything. He immediately moved back when he caught the stranger had his or her white clad back to him, going into the hallway, going closer to Anabella's room. The boy leaped up, skipping the last step, and pelted toward the intrusion.

At the sound of his quickly approaching feet stamping on the floor, the stranger whipped around. Oliver gasped, recognizing the intruder, but the bat was already coming down. The other teen dodged to the side with a neat motion, barely missing the wood clipping his shoulder. The baker stumbled forward from the force in his attack, and his high socks slipped against the bare floors. After nearly tumbling, he whipped around, still gripping the bat in a threatening manner, but strong hands grabbed the top, the thickest part of the crude weapon, preventing Oliver from swinging it again.

Oliver harshly bumped the hallway wall, shoved back by his own arms. "What the bloody-"

A warm palm clamped over his mouth. "Shh!" Allen warned. He glanced at Anabella's bedroom door, then back to the wide teal eyes staring, dumbstruck. "Bella's sleepin'." He moved his hand from Oliver's face to grab his upper arm. "Come on."

"What are you doing here?" Oliver demanded once led into the kitchen. "How are you even here?! The front door was still locked when I came back!"

"Came back from where?" Allen tugged on the bat, and the baker surrendered it. "Bella's car was gone when I came here, but I saw her movin' 'round through the upstairs window."

"Errands," Oliver said, swiping a hand under his nose. "Why are you here?"

"To eat! And also Bella wasn't feelin' well, an' she said she was layin' down earlier..."

"How did you get in here?"

Allen set the bat on the dining table. "Did y'think of the rear door?"

"Is that how-"

"No, that was locked, too. I crawled through a window," he announced with a proud grin. Oliver simply blinked at him. Allen tipped his head when he sucked in a labored breath. "You okay?"

"You idiot!" Oliver snapped. "What if I hit you in the head with that? You would be bleeding all over the ground now!"

"Um, yeah, but I'm not."

Oliver opened his mouth to retort, but shakily inhaled, and suddenly sneezed. He ignored Allen's outstretched reach, and turned for the stove. "Stupid..." he could not get a proper insult out without coughing.

"What'cha doin'?"

"Boiling water."

"Fer what?"

"So I can throw it on you!"

"What! Why would you do that?!"

Oliver sighed, rubbing his arms as he watched the stove's coils glow red. "I am making tea because you made me angry."

"You're the one that came at me wit' a baseball bat!"

"Maybe you should have not been sneaking around!"

"Well, fuck!" Allen said, and pulled out a dining chair to plop himself into it. Both glared in their respective directions.

Oliver sniffled again, raising his hands to cover his face. "Stupid," the whining of the kettle covered his words. He took it off its burner, and tried to tip it into one of the cups he set out, but dumped it over the counter and the floor. "Oh, blast it-" Sturdier arms wrapped around his torso, and pulled him away from the mess. Allen took the kettle from his grip, set it on the stove, and turned the burner off, which he had forgotten to do. The baker grunted as a hand lifted to smear his bangs back, feeling his forehead. "Quit it, you tosser..."

Allen exclaimed, "You're burnin' up!"

"No, it is just a sniffle," Oliver claimed, lamely wriggling away.

The other boy would not let him. "Why you runnin' around everywhere when you're sick?"

"Someone has to do it for Bella."

"Sure, but you gotta take care o' yourself, too!"

Oliver grumbled, "Just let me drink my tea."

"No, you gotta lay down."

"But my tea..."

"Fine, I'll give you your damn tea, just lay down, will you?!"

Oliver flinched from the other teen's raised voice. His eyes started to sting, so his nose was not the only thing that was leaking. "Don't be mad at me," he whimpered, even though Allen had just tasted his wrath a few minutes from then.

"I'm mad because I...!" Allen cut off, choking on his words. His grip on Oliver's shoulders lessened to a less painful hold, and slid down to his hands. "Just let me take care o' you, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he towed Oliver to the living room couch, pointing at the cushions. When the baker opened his mouth to dissent, he was promptly silenced by a firm push, and safely landed on the soft material.

"My tea..."

"Yeah, I didn't forget. Stay there!" Allen warned, and sauntered back into the kitchen. The sofa was so awfully enticing, and Oliver threw his legs onto it without another word. By the time the other boy returned with a steaming mug, he had wrapped himself in the blanket that dangled over the back of the couch, tucked into the corner of one of the arms.

"What is so funny?" Oliver spat at Allen's grin.

"You," Allen said, kneeling in front of the sofa to surrender the cup of tea. "You look like a fuzzy lil' burrito all wrapped up like that."

Oliver eagerly grabbed the cup, huffing, "Dork." He had hot expectations for the drink, so when he put it to his lips, and a bitter taste washed over him, he blanched, and held the mug away from himself. "Ew! What did you do to it?"

"I didn't do anythin'! I just stuck the bag in there for five minutes like it said!"

"Did you put any milk or sugar into it?"

"What, the bag?"

"No! The cup!" Oliver sneezed again, and the tea almost sloshed over his hand.

"I didn't know you had to do that!"

Oliver pushed the cup in Allen's hands. "Not too much sugar. I do not want it overly sweet."

"Shit, man, I didn't know there was a science to this," Allen grumbled to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen once again.


	21. Chapter 20

"Oliver, Oliver!"

Oliver let out a lazy grunt.

"Ollie, come on!"

That voice was too high pitched to be Allen's. "What...what is it?"

"You gotta come to the Realm!"

"No, I don't really."

"Uh, yes you do, mister! This is something you can't possibly miss out on!" When Oliver did not make a move, or even open his eyes, Lila sang, "You won't feel sick in the Realm! It's all mind stuff for you there! So get your butt over there now! Before you miss it!"

"Does it have to happen now?" Oliver weakly furrowed his eyebrows as something clattered in the kitchen. He swore he had _just_ said his farewells to the fairy. A small weight pressed into his cheek, and it had to be Lila prodding his face in persistence. Sick or not, curiosity got the best of him, and it was another opportunity to let his body rest. "All right, I will be right there..."

His spirit had lifted beyond the grip of sickness, and Oliver opened his eyes with a sigh of relief to the endless clouds. A faint buzzing circled around him, and he pushed from the bicolored grass. The fairy exclaimed, "There you are! Come on!"

Lila zoomed off without giving Oliver a chance to ask questions or complain. He leaped after her, down the path toward the flower fields where the other fairies tend to linger, but she turned in the opposite direction, toward another forest swooping down the mountain and across the plain. Those trees were greener and more welcoming than their higher neighbors.

Her voice bounced off of the brown trunks, "It's this way!"

"Great," Oliver grumbled, but the fairy swooped under the branches without acknowledging his grumpiness. Enough light shot through the lower trees, less dense, and there were less creepy spirits encircling above his head. "These plants are so vibrant and green!" He exclaimed aloud. "That is so strange!" He drew a skidding breath as a white elk galloped several paces ahead of him.

Lila was suddenly in his face, and he grabbed at a nearby tree to stop quickly enough before he would ram head-first into her. She raised a finger to her lips. "Shh! You gotta be really, really, really quiet! I last saw him through these trees."

Oliver dug his fingernails into the soft bark, wondering what his friend could be getting the both of them into. He pushed from the trunk, and took wide steps on his tip toes, even though walking normally would be quieter with how much noise his legs made against the shrubbery. A small opening beneath the trees spread out to a small clearing. The dirt morphed into bleach-white sand toward the middle, where the boy stopped when he heard low muttering.

Lila whispered-yelled, "What's that?! That's gotta be him!"

"Who?"

She darted off his head, and into the other line of trees, more dense, and more shadowed. Oliver hesitated, not wanting to follow, but the fairy could be getting into trouble or danger if he did not investigate. The sand squished beneath his feet, but he only took a few strides to the other side of the clearing when another person stumbled into view with Lila hot on their trail.

"Will you just..." The gray-cloaked figure stopped a few feet in front of Oliver, and the boy could see his jaw slacked in disbelief. "Just...buzz off?"

Lila was circling around the stranger. "Look! This is who I was talking about! I thought you came in here, and I went to see you, but it wound up being someone different, or at least I think it is You have nearly the same spirit! It's so weird!" She suddenly yanked on the material, and head of light blond hair erupted from the disturbance. The stranger grabbed at his hood as Lila released it, and rushed toward Oliver.

The boy gasped in wonder, "Apparently the same face, too. Who are you?!"

She did a double take to the other teen as he quickly snapped his hood over himself again, and glared at Oliver with fierce verdant eyes. "Where the hell am I?!"

"What do you mean? Have you ever been in the Realm?"

Before the other boy could say anything, Lila asked, "Why are there two of you?"

"There is not! That is not me!" Both boys claimed at once. They whirled on one another, thick eyebrows furrowing. Before Oliver could stammer out the realization of the other boy being the spitting image of him, besides the strange colors and clothes, the blond whipped around, and pelted into the trees. "Wait!" He called out, but that did not stop the stranger from plunging into the dark and potentially teeming-with-spookies-forest.

"You wait!" Lila tugged on a thick clump of hair. "I don't think you should go in there."

"What? How come? There is another person that can access the Realm of Spirits, and you do not want to chase after him?"

"Those funny stomach feelings are telling me not to go in there, and yours should, too! Something was off about that boy!"

"Aside from the fact that he looked remarkably alike me?"

"Not only that, but both of your souls were almost the same! If I closed my eyes back there, I don't think I'd be able to tell the two of you apart aside from your voices. He was...a little bitter."

"Well, I think he's gone now," Oliver murmured, still gazing into the shadowy forest. "I wonder if this was his first time in the Realm, and we spooked him."

"You spooked him."

"Excuse me! You were the one trying to disrobe the poor bloke!"

"You were the one that looked like him! I was just trying to show you his face!"

Another, distant voice ran though his head, "What, what?!"

Oliver spun around, looking for the source of the sound. "I think I heard something!"

Lila shrunk into his hair, holding on for her dear life. "Who?"

"How'd you get this number?"

The boy recognized that voice entering through his unconsciousness. "I need to get back to my world."

"So soon? But Ollie-"

"Keep your eyes open for that me again!"

"What do you mean?" Her voice dropped in pitch, but jumped in volume. Oliver gasped as he felt as if he was being crushed out of the Realm.

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

Oliver's eyes flew open, and groaned from an unpleasant sweat. "Oh, it's awful." Another string of curses came across the living room. "Stop screaming," he grumbled, and kicked his leg out from the blanket, almost knocking over his old cup that sat on the coffee table.

Allen's voice came from the kitchen, low and aggressive, "Yeah, I get it! Don't you think I have important things to do? Ollie's sick as a dog-wait, what?! Why didn't you say that in the first place? Dammit!"

The baker jumped as something clattered against the floor, causing the other boy to curse more. He pushed himself from the couch with a drawn out complaint, feeling better with sleep, but being forced out of the Realm kept his head swimming with his sickness. Oliver stumbled to the doorway, and supported himself on the wood as Allen had his butt to him, plucking a knick knack from the floor.

"I'll see what we can do...I said we'll see!" He slammed the phone on its receiver, turning the decoration in his hand. "The fuck is this? What kind o' paint job-"

"Who was that?" Oliver croaked.

Allen thrashed, almost dropping the knick knack again. He set it on the counter, and hurried toward him. "Ollie, what are you doin' up? You feelin' better? You were mumblin' a lot in your sleep!" Not waiting for a coherent reply, he pushed Oliver's bangs up, and patted his forehead. "You're not all hot anymore," the teen claimed, pulling him closer to dot his jaw with his lips.

Oliver turned his head away so Allen did not breathe in his sickness. He asked again, "Who were you talking to?"

He was promptly squeezed for a tight moment before a sigh eased Allen's shoulders. "It was Matt. Somethin' happened at the House when we were out. Lutz was attacked, an' he needs stitches, but nobody is fessin' up that they sew-"

"Why did you not say anything before?" Oliver barked, pulling away. "Come on, then."

"No way!" Allen grabbed his forearm. "You are still sick-"

"I am not going to lay and mope all day. I have to go back and wash up, anyway!"

"Shit, babe!" Allen stepped back to snatch his jacket off one of the dining chairs. "At least put this on when you go outside! Yer shakin'!"

"What about you? You are going to get sick!"

"Pssh, like a few sniffles and coughs is enough to get me sick. Come on," he gave the leather a shake.

"But it does not even fit you completely..." Oliver weakly dissented as the heavy material lain on his shoulders. The other boy lifted his arms to stick them in the sleeves. "I can do that. How is Bella?"

Allen waited until the baker was finished struggling with the zipper and sneezing to grab his hand and tow him to the stairs. "She was awake earlier, but she didn't eat anythin'. I got her more water, but she's sleepin' now." He hopped down the last few steps, and turned to watch Oliver descend more carefully, gripping the railing as if he were expecting to slip any moment. "Damn, you know how to pull that off!"

"Oh, be quiet," Oliver sniffed, and knelt to snatch his shoes he left at the bottom of the steps. Despite the warnings, he exclaimed in disgust as a wave of cold air smacked their faces once outside. The walk was most unpleasant, save for the moments Allen tugged on his arm when he wondered too close to the road. _Lutz? Stabbed? For what? From who?_ Oliver did not really want to ponder to hard at the moment, and decided to put off the heavy thoughts until he saw what happened for himself.

"Wassup," Allen greeted Miss Warden.

She looked up from her biscuit, raising her eyebrows at their unkempt outlooks and windblown cheeks. "You look sick, Oliver."

"I am." As if to prove this, he sputtered into several coughs.

The elder's nose crinkled. "I have pills for that."

Allen asked, "Do you got any gauze?"

"You need gauze, too?" Miss Warden snapped, digging in one of her desk drawers. She shook some pills out of a white bottle, and set a thin bundle of wrapping on the edge of the table. "Does it require professional medical attention?"

"Naw," Allen shook his head, grinning brightly despite the situation. Oliver pressed closer to his side, stealing warmth. "Just a lil' cut. Don't you worry."

Miss Warden turned back to her breakfast, making a noncommittal sound as if she was not worrying in the first place. Oliver took the gel pills dry, earning double looks of shock. "Come on then," he prompted, not forgetting to grab the gauze.

"Y-yeah, up this way," Allen gestured lamely to the stairs. "Keep watch out fer any crazy fellas, Ollie. Some kids are armed now, apparently, an' ain't afraid to show it."

Oliver grunted in reply, and stopped before a door near an upper front window. The other boy rapped on the wood for him. Something clattered on the other side, followed by several flustered tones.

"Someone is at the door!" Oliver could tell Luciano's higher voices apart from the others. "Dammit, what if it is one of those idiots again?"

"He is sort of right, you know," Oliver commented. Allen gave him an unimpressed look.

"Do you think they would knock, Luciano-san?" Kuro's low voice snuck through the panels, "That is above their politeness."

"Who is it?" A close voice snarled. Oliver glanced down, staring at the shadow of feet peeking though the bottom of the door.

Allen drawled, "It's us, Matt. Come on an' let us in."

The door swung open from the inside. "It's about time," Matt growled. "When I say it's an emergency, I would think that calls for urgency."

"Uh, yeah!" Allen snapped, "The bakery isn't right next door!"

The blond swished a hand to usher them inside. "Come on." As soon as the duo passed him, he clamped the door shut, and twisted the lock. Lutz and his brother sat on the edge of the joined beds, looking up with haunted eyes. Siegmund held a wash cloth to the other's arm, but the rag was dyed red. His dull rosy eyes were wide, but he would not be able to say anything even if he could speak. Luciano paced around the tight quarters, while Kuro watched from his stance against the furthest wall. Flavio was nowhere in sight.

Luciano stopped his antics, stopping before Oliver. "You can work with thread, right?!"

Oliver sniffled loudly, leaning away from his proximity. "I used to help my grandmother with her sewing."

"That is more than enough," Luciano claimed. "As long as you can sew straight." He suddenly shouted, "Flavio! Come out here!"

A voice came from the bathroom, "I told you I do not want to see some kid cut up like a hot dog!"

"Get out here and find your damn sewing kit!"

The door creaked open. Flavio's tanned face shot glares at his brother. "It's in the bottom dresser drawer." He slipped into the water closet again.

Luciano turned to Oliver. "You heard him."

Oliver was still thinking about hot tea and naps. "If he has a sewing kit, how come he does not do it?"

"My brother is...!" Luciano spewed in his native language, and the baker stared at him blankly. Allen fetched the kit during his outrage.

Lutz announced, "This cloth is soaked!"

"Flavio! We need a new damn towel!"

Oliver grasped the small sewing kit and padded to the bed. "Sorry, dear," he told Siegmund, "I need to be up close." The mute understood, rising to his feet, but still awkwardly held the soaked cloth beneath his brother's arm. "Goodness, what happened?"

"I was cut up!" Lutz said, as if it were not obvious.

"It was those...those-" Luciano crowed several offensive slurs. "They shanked Lutz! Look! Look at what they did to his arm!"

Oliver glanced down, and peeled back the cloth that covered the wound. Three long gashes scored across the length of his forearm in the same direction. Oliver's stomach felt queasy again. The owner of the gruesome wound lowly whined, wiggling on the bed, "It's still bleeding!"

"Flavio!" Luciano called, "Where is that new towel?!"

The bathroom door swung open again. "Right here, idiot. Calm down; your boy toy still has his other limbs."

Luciano responded with a choked gasp. His brother handed Siegmund the clean rag, and skittered back to the bathroom without taking the soiled cloth the mute held. Instead, the other teen dropped it on the floor to press the new one against Lutz's arm. It immediately soaked with blood.

Oliver wound up triple knotting the thinnest string available, working with trembling fingers. "This will be better than leaving those gashes open." Siegmund peeled the cloth away, and the baker brought the needle to the blond's skin before it became overly bloody again. "Just keep still..."

Lutz flinched. "Aargh!"

"What did I just say?!"

Siegmund shook with quiet laughter.

"Shut up," Lutz growled, hissing every time Oliver tugged on the string. The baker suddenly thrashed with a sneeze, almost jabbing him in the upper arm. "Watch it!"

"It is not my fault you had to get ganked, and bother me when I am sick. Now, what did you do? Who did this? Is there a reason you were attacked?"

"Those boys out there...they're animals," Lutz grunted, jerking under the thread. "They were going after Siegmund. I was simply defending my brother."

"Siegmund?" Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the boy kneeling in front of them. "Whatever for? You did not say anything to them did you-" He snapped off when he caught onto his slip up. "Oh, pardon me." The mute grinned, and shook his head. "So you are innocent?"

"Just for this ordeal!" Lutz exclaimed. "Ow, ow, ow!" He snapped when Siegmund squeezed his wrist. His brother signed something, and the blond rolled his eyes. "That was _not_ necessary."

Instead of staring at some kid get stitched up, Matt jerked a thumb to the door. "I'm going to get something to eat in the dining chall."

Kuro pushed from the wall. "Allow me to go with you."

The blond nodded in understanding, and unlocked the door. Allen threw his arms up. "Food! Wait fer me!"

"Siegmund, you should go," Luciano announced. "The more the messier."

The mute jumped, flying to his feet, and violently shook his head. Lutz told him, "It's fine. You know how this works. I'll be fine."

Matt coughed into a fist, "They will be more reluctant approaching a larger group of people."

"We will be fine," Kuro narrowed his dark eyes. "However, another person will do no harm."

Luciano stared at Siegmund's forced departure. Once the door was closed, he hurried toward it, and twisted the lock. He glided to the other boys, falling in front of Lutz, and grabbed the hand Oliver was sewing. The Italian picked up the towel the mute was handling, and dabbed at the blood trailing down Lutz's arm. Oliver glanced at his distant violet gaze, but refocused on tugging the thread through skin when the eyes flickered up to his.

"That Crooked _idiota_ does not know where he belongs," Luciano hissed. "His pals act like they run the show. We were all trying to enjoy ourselves in this place, and then-" He cut himself off with a high noise of frustration. "They need to learn to know better."

Lutz made a breathy sound, as if he were laughing, despite how tense his shoulders were. "Anyone who would expect less is a fool."

Oliver lifted his eyebrows, but continued to work quietly out of politeness. He only interrupted them with his sniffles and coughing. The sewing job was a little crude, but it came out better than expected with the consideration of all the blood and his sickness. Luciano gently ran the towel over the freshly sewn wounds as the baker discarded the scraps. To top it off, he pulled out the gauze he obtained from Miss Warden, and wrapped the stitches to preserve the work. "What really happened?"

Both looked at Oliver in question. He settled back on the bed, leaning on the headboard. The wood was cool against his flushed state. "I know those...idiots prance around as if they have nothing better to do, but what is with the violence all of a sudden?"

Lutz said, "They're pissed at Matt." He glimpsed to Luciano, who shifted from the floor to settle next to him on the bed.

"It is rather complicated," the Italian explained at Oliver's vaguely bewildered expression.

"I can keep up."

The duo exchanged a doubtful glance as he leaned his head against the wood, and his blue eyes fluttered. Luciano began, "I don't know if you know this, but Siegmund has been hanging around Matt a lot lately."

Oliver made a soft grunt. "I have noticed that. It is rather strange, is it not?"

"Siggy claims he is tolerated because he can't speak."

Luciano rolled his eyes. " _Si, si._ Matt needs to get that stick out of his ass. I am getting tired of seeing your brother follow him around like a little lost puppy."

Oliver glanced between the two. Luciano's distaste was a bit hypocritical. He prompted, "Anyway..."

"Oh, anyway," Luciano seemed to think hard for a moment to find his thoughts again. "Um...those monkeys have been ticked off at Matt for sometime now, because apparently, he kicked their asses. Good for him."

"I saw it," Oliver's lips uplifted in a slight smile. "It was glorious."

"I guess they were starting shit with him, and he didn't like it-"

"No, they were targeting Allen."

Luciano sighed. "Allen? Why am I not surprised?"

Lutz shrugged. "What did he do?"

"It is more of a question of what he did not do." Oliver rubbed his nose at the stuffed sensation. "They wanted Allen to be a part of their...little clique, but of course, I would not have that, and persuaded him to avoid them."

"With food?"

Oliver lifted his head from the bedframe. "How did you know?"

Luciano smirked. "Lucky guess."

"I suppose they held grudge against him since then. Also, I hope I correctly assume that they are mad at me, because..."

"Because what, Oliver? Did you do something?"

"Oh, it was such a while ago, but I told him I wanted nothing more from him." Oliver leaned against the bed again. "Crookednose has been ticked at me ever since I refused to play spy and matchmaker with the girls on the benches for them."

Luciano snorted. "They wanted you to do the dirty work? How horrible. Everyone knows to woo pretty ladies, you have to directly go to them-"

Lutz interrupted his passionate speech, "I guess Matt was not having any of them having intentions to hurt his brother?"

The brunet pulled a sour expression. Oliver shook his head, but not so much to make himself dizzy. "It was marvelous. I am going to stay on that bloke's good side. So, they tried to get back at Allen for refusing them, but then Matt beat them up instead."

" _Ja,_ and since Matt did that, they are mad at him, and tried to beat him, too, but Siegmund and I were with him that time, and jumped in for his defense. I could not stand by and watch my brother get mauled." Lutz glanced down to his arm, and ran a hand over the gauze.

"They are stupid monkeys," Luciano seethed. "We have to do something to stop them. Kuro thinks so, too. It's about time someone puts them in their place. The real world will kick their asses if they think they can get one up on someone, especially us." He picked up his head from eyeing the wound. "Who knows? They may thank us down the road for this."

"I doubt it," Oliver said. He peeked at Luciano scowling, and sticking his tongue out. "Do not get pissy at me. What do you expect to do? Form two lines facing each other and go about it?"

"What do _you_ suppose we do?" Luciano retorted, "More kids will get hurt if we don't so something."

"More kids will get hurt if you launch a full out war between your pals and the other gang."

"We could knock down the leader," Lutz suggested, breaking their glares. "The rest will run amuck without the reassurance of him."

Oliver swiped a hand over his forehead, lightly groaning, "My neighbor? Gosh, I can assure you, it was not always like this-"

"That little crooked face snot-head!" Luciano spat.

Lutz put in, "It may work."

"It _may,_ or it may become a series of revenge, ending in the same place if we just go after them!"

The blond boy had another suggestion. "We could talk to Miss Warden about the issue, too." He glanced at the other teens, fatally nervous under their stares. "C-call the police?"

Luciano stared at Lutz until the blond dropped his gaze to the floorboards. "Well, anyway, we should wait until they come after one of us. Perhaps we can bait them with something, or someone. Then we won't look like the bad guys. We would be protecting ourselves. Is that good for you, Oliver?" He asked almost sourly.

Oliver gazed at the blankets for a long moment before announcing, "A nap would be good for me at the moment."


	22. Chapter 21

Oliver had managed to crawl into his own bed, immediately falling asleep as soon as his head met the pillow. However, when he woke up again covered in sweat, he regretted not showering before he slept. Dried blood still clung under his nails from Lutz's wound. When he peeled himself from the mattress, the boy noted that he was almost back to normal. The sniffling had to stay and plague him, though. He would not get away so easily.

When he emerged from the bathroom fresh and happy to pretend he scrubbed away his sickness, he jumped as a small body nearly smashed into his face with an overly loud, "Yahoo!"

"Lila," the teen breathed a sigh of relief. "Do not give me a fright like that."

"It seems like you have been on edge lately," the fairy keenly observed, hovering closely as he rummaged through his dresser.

"With all these blokes running around slicing up my Housemates, and a cold to top it off? Yes, you can say I am a tad edgy."

"Yikes." Lila sat on his head once he pulled his vest over his shoulders. "Do you want me to stimulate your immune system so you can be healthier quicker?"

"Err...thank you for the offer, but I am almost done with it. Maybe next time. Did you see that odd boy again?"

"Not yet, but I'm keeping an eye out!"

Oliver put a hand on his door knob, and tipped his head. His cargo shifted to adjust herself as he murmured, "Yes, he's...it was such an unusual encounter. Do you think he is a long lost twin?"

"You know how we were saying the Realm is the meeting place of different worlds? You know, before we got interrupted?"

"Do you think...?"

"Maybe! How about this, I'll go straight to you if and when he comes around again. We kind of scared him away last time."

" _You_ scared him!"

"I am not the one that looks like the semi-spitting image of him! Don't forget your keys!"

"Oh, drat."

Lila dropped the subject for the present. "Are we going to the bakery?"

"Of course." Oliver shut and locked his door behind himself, and casted suspicious glances down the hall. "I need to see how Bella is doing. She was sicker than I am!"

Once he clunked down the steps, he passed the corridor stretching from the dining hall's doors to the other side of the House, where a pair of girls from the benches were approaching. He stopped before they could gasp and wave their arms. They hurried to him, smiling wickedly about something. "Join us for breakfast, Oliver!"

"Sorry, girls, I am afraid I have to be at the bakery at the moment."

They simultaneously slouched. One whined, "Oh, come on!"

The other put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, screw you for having a life!"

Oliver could only stare at them in shock. The other girl giggled at her friend's sarcasm. "Make sure you get to us sometime soon, okay?"

He did not have a choice. Through their titters and hair twirling, these girls were beasts. "Okay," the boy weakly agreed. "Sometime. If I may," he gestured to the front doors.

More evil laughing. "Of course." They continued to the dining hall without further altercation. They delighted Lila, based on the little snickers coming from the top of Oliver's head. He did not understand the charm; it must have been a girl thing. If he thought about it, Anabella had her viscous underlay, too. Oliver shivered, and for once, it was not from the cold.

Lila pressed closer into his hair during his walk, not enjoying the winter, like him. The journey was uneventful, save for a patch of ice he unfortunately mistook as a puddle of water, and carelessly treaded on it. A passerby gawked with her mouth open instead of helping when his arms flailed, but he had regained his balance with an indignant cough.

Through the small apartment complex, Oliver called, "Bella?" The untidy blanket was still strewn on the back of the couch as he and Allen left it the previous day. He decided to fix it before entering the hallway. "Bella?"

"I am here," a voice croaked. Oliver pushed open her bedroom door with a light knock, but the room was empty. A door further down the hall opened, and he backed into the corridor. Anabella emerged from the last room past the bathroom, carrying a thick folder with many tabs sticking from the files stuffed between its pockets. "Ah, I was hoping you would be here soon."

"Bella, you all right?"

The elder stopped, lifting her eyebrows. "Are you? I have heard from a little lovebird that you came down with something."

"Ooh!" Lila sang, most likely grinning ear to ear from her spot.

Oliver did not acknowledge the fairy. "Allen was here to see how you were doing, too."

"I know," Anabella would not stop smiling, scuffling pass her worker. "Come to the kitchen." She set the thick bundle on the dining table. Oliver hurried to the stove to start a kettle of water. "Why is my grandson's bat up here? Never mind, he does not care for it." After a quiet moment to lower herself in one of the chairs, she giggled, "He likes you, you know."

"Who?!" Oliver squawked. "Your grandson?!"

Anabella's face fell to a blank stare. "I am afraid Louis likes anyone and anything. I am talking about Allen."

"Oh," Oliver eased, turning back to the stove. "Well, I would hope so!"

"What makes you say that?"

The teen dropped his gaze to the toe of his shoe squishing against the tiled floor. "We have been... _involved_ for more than a few weeks now."

Anabella was quiet. He glanced over his shoulder in worry. "Oliver, can you come over here for a moment?"

"Of course!" He eagerly hustled to his boss, stopping beside her. "What is it-"

She grabbed a thinner folder from the large stack of others, and threw her arm in the air. Lila gasped and launched off of Oliver's head before the old woman would smack her. Oliver was not as lucky. "You should have told me! I have been waiting ever since he fessed up that he had the biggest, 'manliest' crush on you!"

"He does?" Oliver echoed, not paying attention to the fairy cautiously lowering herself back into his hair again. He pondered how loud and stupid Allen was when they had met, and how he still was on good days. Before he could start smiling stupidly, the elder dramatically scoffed.

"Duh! Boys! None of you ever know what to do when it comes to the matters of romance. I'm certain you two would not be dating if he did not."

Oliver untactfully changed the subject. "Would you like some tea?"

"Always."

"What are we doing today?" The boy asked once two steaming mugs sat on the dining table.

"If you wish to stay at this bakery, you will need to know how to run a business economically and financial wise!"

Lila groaned. "That sounds boring!"

Oliver had to agree, but it had to be done. "Of course. Where do we start?"

Luckily for whatever what was left of Oliver's brain about two hours later, the bakery's bell rung out multiple times. He eagerly broke away from Anabella's lesson of writing checks (with little poodles in the background of the slips) to assist the customer. The elder complied, lingering upstairs, since she was still unwell to spring back to the land of the living. Lila was waiting on the front counter, not fond of the stressed (and boring) atmosphere of learning. She leaped into the air, exclaiming in delight at the sight of the boy, and took her usual perch.

"Hello," Oliver beckoned as he came from the stair well. "What can I do..." he trailed off, stopping behind the counter to stare at the police officer popping a giant wad of gum. The teen rested a hand on his stomach, queasy from the knotted sensation it was performing. "What brings you to a bakery, sir? Are you interested in something to eat?"

"No, I'm not." The officer snapped his chew again. Oliver clenched his teeth as the man jumped into what he wanted to say. "Kids around your age are amuck around town, and for some strange reason, a lot of the townies' arms are suddenly disappearing. Hear 'bout that?"

Lila shuddered from the teen's head. "He makes me nervous!"

Another pop made Oliver jump a bit, breaking the image of his Housemates stealing other people's body parts. "Would you mind enlightening me?"

" _Hmph!_ Every now and again, people fight. It's natural. They have methods of legal protection, but when a bunch of gremlins are running around, gathering substances through illegal methods more often than normal, that's a bit alarming, don't you think?"

Oliver's eyebrows lifted at the new information. "Yes, I have heard rumors about that." Rumors? Hilarious, he had just stitched up a poor kid's arm because of this newfound violence!

"Are you one of those boys from the Youth Hostel down the street?"

As the officer leaned on the counter, Oliver nodded, staring at his hands holding the edges of the counter with a death grip. "Yes, I am."

"Have you witnessed, or know anyone who witnessed a collective attack, use or possession of any weapons or objects capable of mass harm?"

Putting on his default smile, Oliver batted his eyes in innocence. "Nothing from the usual, sir."

Though he could not see behind the reflective glasses, he could guess the slight hesitance was for the officer's eyes to narrow. The man straightened, giving the counter a few knocks with his knuckles. "All right, kid. Keep a look out for anything...odd in the meanwhile." He turned around and pointed to Oliver when he was halfway to the door. "And stay out of it!"

"Of course," the boy lamely waved until the door clamped shut behind the police officer's back. His cheeks deflated as the man held his hand up in greeting to a small group of youths approaching the bakery. "M-mass harm?"

Lila stirred on the teen's head, loudly interrupting his creeping panic. "Hey! Look who it is!"

Oliver's grin returned at the sight of some of his friendlier Housemates. The officer held his arms out, antagonizing the fist Allen shook at him in mock defense. Matt and Siegmund went around them, not attending to their stupidity. However, Allen dashed in front of them, only to slam into the glass door. His brother snapped at him, making a pulling motion. Siegmund's shoulders shook with silent laughter as the other teen ripped the door open, pulling, instead of pushing.

There were smudge marks on the once clean glass. Oliver gasped and ducked as Allen pelted forward, despite a counter being in the way, and heaved, slugging his legs over the surface, and landed neatly on the other side. The baker snapped up, demanding, "What are you doing-"

Allen interrupted him by wrapping his arms around his waist and plucking him from the ground. Lila whooped, grasping Oliver's hair so she would not be flung away when he spun around, pinning his catch to against himself.

"No rough housing in the bakery!" Oliver smacked the other boy's chest in rapid succession until the death grip was released, letting him land on the tiled floor with a small huff. He drew a finger underneath his collar as the others approached the counter with a more humane entrance. He gave Allen's chest another smack for good measure, tingling from the dynamic duo of a crooked smile and a wink. "It is about time you two come and see the place for yourself."

Matt grunted, and Siegmund cracked a grin, signing something for a while. The blond furrowed his eyebrows, translating, "He could not stop thinking of cupcakes since the round ones...the pumpkin ones you gave us."

"I loved those ones!" Allen claimed, shaking his arms in excitement.

"I need to ask Anabella if I can make something for non-customers," Oliver excused himself, and pelted upstairs. "Bella!"

The kitchen was no longer occupied, yet the mass of papers were still there. He shuddered from the scars many numbers of income and expenses left in his mind. The elder's voice drifted into the hallway, "In my bedroom, Oliver."

He cleared his throat, nearing the corridor. "Is everything all right?"

"Quite," Anabella weakly replied, resting on her bed. "I am going to get some more shut eye. Can you take care of the shop?"

"Of course!"

"Good," she curtly nodded and closed her eyes. "Was that a customer that came in?"

"No, it was some man browsing. He is gone, now." Since Anabella only bobbed her head again, he said, "Some of the boys came from the House. Do you mind if I make them something?"

"The good boys?"

"Allen is with them."

"That does not mean anything, young man." Anabella managed a little giggle. "Go ahead. Don't get too loud."

"Thank you, Bella." Oliver smiled politely, and gently pulled the door shut. He zipped to the staircase on his toes, earning a squeal of delight from Lila. He stopped at the top, tucking his unkempt shirt into place before properly descending. "She will allow it. What would you like?"

Allen slapped the counter with both hands. "Cupcakes!"

Siegmund made a looping motion. Matt raised his eyebrows. "Pretzels?"

"Pretzels?" Oliver echoed. "I never made those before."

"Come on, dude! Cupcakes!"

"Matt? What would you like?" The baker asked over Allen's complaint. "You could be the tie breaker."

"Shut the fuck up," Matt growled at his brother's low chant of "Cupcakes, cupcakes, cupcakes!" "You can get your cupcakes any time we are not here." Allen ignored him, or perhaps did not hear him over himself. "How about muffins?!"

"I have many different kinds of muffins," Oliver said, "Do you know what kind you would like?"

"What kind do you have?"

"It's a bakery." Allen claimed, "They got all kinds of stuff!"

"Even peanut butter and jelly muffins?"

Oliver chirped, "I can make those!"

Matt seemed vaguely impressed. "Really? Then please do."

"Aw, man, peanut butter." Allen did not seem heartbroken that he did not get cupcakes; as long as it was good food, he was happy.

"Is anyone allergic to peanut butter?" Oliver asked, glancing to Siegmund. "Just to be safe."

"The only thing Allen is allergic to is not eating."

Oliver gave Matt a sour look. "I think everyone is allergic to that."

"Whatever. I would keep an eye on your stores around him," the blond warned, and brushed Siegmund's hand to guide him to a table while the other two went in the kitchen.

"Are you going to help me bake?" Oliver offered, shooting the other teen a suspicious look as he turned on the sink faucet. "Do not think you will get more than Matt and Siegmund if you do!"

"Heh, sure, Ollie." Allen let out an unmanly squeak when the baker whipped a dish towel at his backside.

"Be sure to wash your hands."

"I don't got cooties," he said, but stuck his hands in the water anyway.

"That is not what the muffins would say." Oliver shooed Lila from hovering over the sugar container. Her grin gave away her sweet intentions. She giggled, and plopped herself on Allen's head instead. Once the baker brought out all the ingredients, he asked, "Can you spray that pan?"

"With what? Water?"

"Cooking oil," Oliver pointed to the canister on the counter as he pressed the stove for preheating. "Not too much!"

"Like that? Oh shit, it's drippin'." Allen set the tray on the oven, and dabbed a finger against it. He popped it in his mouth, and blanched. "Ugh! That's not _that_ tasty, Ollie!"

"It is not for eating, mostly. It is so the muffins do not stick to the pan."

"That makes sense, I guess."

Lila blew a raspberry, and Oliver poorly stifled his laughter.

"What? What'd I do?"

"Nothing, Allen. Here, I'll measure the ingredients, and you can combine them with the groups I separate them into."

"How come we can't just put 'em all together?"

"Some things do not mix well with others until they are mixed with other things."

"There's a science to this!"

Oliver set a cup of flour in front of him, and pointed at one of the empty bowls. "Yes, if you think about it, there is."

Allen seemed to be unable to stop bouncing in place, even at the prospect of dumping food into bowls. "You know, this is a nice change of pace. 'Stead of runnin' all over town, we do domestic stuff like bakin', an' hangin' out..."

The baker realized he was staring when the other teen trailed off to meet his gaze. Oliver blinked a few times, and glanced to the half mixed batter. Lila held out her hands, prompting, "Yahoo! Say something!"

"Um, yes." Oliver grunted, grabbing a couple of eggs to tap them against the counter.

"What? You don't think so?"

"I do."

Allen shrugged, and turned back to his own mixture. Lila sighed loudly, and smacked a hand to her forehead. Oliver wondered if he would feel as idiotic jumping and clapping with agreement.


	23. Chapter 22

Once the muffins were in the oven, Allen slunk away, most likely deciding he would have more success bothering his brother. The baker remained to clean up as much as possible during the baking process, until the countdown neared to completion. Lila was getting anxious, probably from lack of muffins and stimulation. With a promise of giving her a half of a muffin for her to behave herself, he left the kitchen to approach the other boys.

"Muffins?!" Allen exclaimed excitedly.

"They still have a few minutes left," Oliver announced. He eyed Matt tipping precariously on his chair's hind legs. "Would anyone like anything to drink? I can make tea."

"You always make tea, babe."

Oliver grabbed one of Allen's ears and gave it a good tug. Matt furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "Cold tea?"

"What? No!" Oliver released the ear when an arm reached up to clamp on his wrist. "Why would you drink it cold?"

"Because it tastes good?"

The brothers exchanged a blank look. Allen said, "Just get the hot tea, bro."

Siegmund signaled with a ruffled expression.

"He wants milk. I guess I'll try your tea."

Oliver nodded, and set out for the kitchen again. He heard Allen exclaim, "I don't know if you know this, but tea is really good! I mean, not as good as soda..."

His smile puckered as he skittered to a stop in the kitchen, and stared at the mess of sprinkles dumped on the counter. The culprit sat in the middle of the mess of rainbow with a handful of edible beads near her mouth. "Uh...uh...hey, Ollie! What'cha doing?"

"I was going to make tea, but I suppose I have more messier things to up now!"

Lila shot into the air, and any sprinkles clinging to her floral garments bounced onto the counter. "Don't worry about it! I'll clean it up! Make your tea!"

Oliver stuck his fists against his waist. "You mean you'll stuff your face with them while you are supposed to be putting them back into the canister?"

The fairy copied the gesture. "No, because I have to save room for my muffin!"

"Who says you will be getting a muffin?!"

"You did!"

"Only if this mess is cleaned up by the time they are out of the oven!"

As soon as Oliver emerged from the kitchen with his friends' drinks, Allen bellowed, "Muffins!"

"They will be out in a jiffy," the baker claimed, setting each cup in front of their respective owners. Matt swirled the spoon sticking out of his tea in vague curiosity. Oliver quickly pulled away, hurrying to the kitchen.

The fairy shot up from the counter. "Look at what I did! Well, there's nothing on here, but that's because I cleaned it up! I think I'll take my muffin now!"

"Wow!" The teen leaned forward, surveying the light surface for any stray sprinkles. "I suppose you will. I have to get them out of the oven, first." When the tray clattered on top of the stove, he announced, "This will be your only warning; they just came out of the oven."

Lila lowered herself above the tray, and pressed a palm to one of the muffin's tops. "Ow!" She pulled away, and cradled her hand to her chest, betrayed by what she loved most; food. "I guess I have to wait a little while." The muffin Oliver left for her to cool on the counter was almost half her height, but he allowed her to gaze at it fondly while he delivered the rest to his guests.

The boys straightened and watched him approach with various degrees of excitement and hunger on their faces. "Be careful! They are hot!"

They did not care, based on the grab for the treats and the way they shoveled them into their mouths. Allen huffed and swished his hand from the ignored warning. Siegmund dunked his muffin into his milk, smiling as if he were the greatest thinker to exist. When the brunet tried that with his tea, the muffin fell apart, and he gasped in horror at the remaining half. Oliver settled in his seat, and snatched a pastry before his hand was clawed apart. The others ate as if it were their last chance to do so. Sometimes, Matt twitched when an outsider passed the window.

Siegmund threw a half eaten muffin, causing Oliver to tense when the dark blur sailed pass his nose. Allen grunted as it smacked his cheek, crumbling onto the table, and the mute doubled over in violent, but quiet laughter. Even Matt's lips uplifted at his brother's dejected expression. Allen grabbed the mangled treat, and loudly gnashed it between his teeth. "Now you just lost your last muffin. How that feel?!" Siegmund retorted by sticking out his tongue.

Matt cleared his throat, clanking the bottom of his cup on the table. "What was that officer up to?" Somebody kicked his shin from the tangle of feet below. Oliver giggled when Siegmund's leg brushed his to strike Allen near the groin. "Guys!" The blond snapped, and flew to his feet. "I asked a question!"

The merrymaking snapped silent, used to gawk at Matt as if his head exploded. A few dark crumbs fell out of Siegmund's mouth, and bounced on the table. Oliver swished a hand in front of his face, heated from shame. "Excuse us. What were you asking?"

With an audible grind of his teeth, Matt used a moment to cast a glare around the table before taking his seat. "There was a police officer exiting the bakery when we were coming up. He wasn't carrying anything, so if he did not buy something, why was he here?"

The others looked to Oliver for answers. He hesitated by tipping back his cup, and collected his heavy thoughts. "What I say will be something Kuro, Lutz, and Luciano should hear about, so when any of you see any of them, make sure they hear it," he began. The others leaned against the table, looking concerned. "According to the officer, a bunch of blokes are getting weapons."

"What's a bloke?" Allen asked.

"Guys from the House?" Matt rasped, "They always had weapons. _Everyone_ has weapons."

"I know," the baker calmly replied. "That is what was strange. Kids, and everyone else, had always obtained methods of self-protection, but for the law to step up and finally try investigating crime, it is rather alarming."

Siegmund rolled his eyes as his hands fumbled. Matt nodded, "It _is_ stupid, but the best we can do at the moment is lay low while we watch those losers trample around. We can't afford to get tangled with them, and risk getting nabbed by the cops, too."

"What if someone gets hurt?" Allen held a hand to Siegmund. The mute leaned away like he had cooties, and the other teen took it back with a disgruntled look. "They're just gonna keep attackin' us if we let 'em."

"We need to make them not want to attack us," Oliver said, and he dearly wished he did not have to say those words about his neighbor. "Since they like jumping on unsuspecting victims, I suppose we should not go out of the House by ourselves."

Matt shot Oliver a blank look. "I don't think that's the major problem here-"

"Like a buddy system?" His brother perked up, tossing a wicked grin at Oliver.

The baker stuck his mug to his face again, taking a long drag. "You could say that, and make sure you have something to protect yourselves. Even if it is a table lamp you are carrying around, if you can't have somebody with you, and they come after you, give them a whack or two. There's nothing wrong with protecting yourself, as long as you are not on the offensive.

"I know, I sound a bit paranoid," Oliver admitted, and glanced down to his finished tea with a little frown. Before Matt could open his mouth, he said, "However, I rather be crazy and not cut up at the same time." He set a hand on his trousers' pocket. If all else failed summoning-wise, he could jam the stick of chalk in people's eyes, if pulling something out of thin air did not frighten them, first. He jumped slightly when Allen put his palm on the back of his hand, seeping the cold from his skin.

"I know," Matt responded to Siegmund's signing, "but your fists can only go so far without weapons. I'm sure your brother can get Luciano to give you something."

"Ollie? What are you gon' do?" Allen giggled, "Unless you and Bella got an underground bunker full of guns an' bullet proof vests?"

Oliver laughed louder than he should. He slapped his free hand over his mouth as Matt raised his eyebrows at his outburst. The baker cleared his throat, smiling uneasily as his face and neck grew heated. "No, there are no arms around here," if they were not speaking of the ones attached to their shoulders, he was telling the truth. "We _do_ have some awfully large knives in the kitchens."

Matt seemed legitimately piqued. "How well can you handle them? Or smaller ones, even those have some worth."

"I have been cutting fruits and vegetables ever since I started baking with minimal slicing to my own fingers."

Siegmund drew a sharp breath, moving his hands in a rapid motion.

"We are not cooking any fingers," Matt retorted. He faced Oliver. "Cutting food and slicing for defense are two completely different movements."

Oliver glared at the table. "Pardon me for being useless."

"You ain't useless!" Allen announced. "You patched up Lutz pretty good! All teams need a healer, right?"

"I-I suppose..." The baker rubbed his chest, not entirely sure he was even capable of thoroughly defending himself in the heat of the moment, or would wind up punching himself in the eye. He clumsily pulled away from the table, and grabbed the empty muffin tray. "I am going to take care of this."

Without waiting for any reply, Oliver hurried to the kitchen, nicking his hip on the front counter as he bustled by it. A lone muffin sat on the counter, half destroyed to crumbs and small scoops taken from its body. The fairy was nowhere in sight, but if he listened hard enough, he swore he heard faint giggling. Setting the tray in the sink, the boy turned around with his hands on his waist. "I know you are in here."

Still, Lila did not show. Oliver turned to the sink, and began washing what little dishes were left, expecting her to typically sneak up, and try to scare him. She had not popped up even when he was using the dish rag to scrub his hands dry. "What in the world are you up to?"

The giggling must have been coming from one of the cabinets. He ripped a door open, and glared at the ceramic mugs. Even the next cabinet did not hold anything odd besides tartar sauce. Although, those tall spice containers could be shielding a giggling fairy behind them. Oliver went to grab two of them, but one flew from his palm, and made a grand escape to roll onto the floor. The others took to its example, and tumbled to the counter. He took a sharp, angry breath at the tins, "This is not funny anymore, you-!"

Of course Allen took the opportunity to waltz in at the same time he was yelling at food. "What'chu freakin' out 'bout in here, Ollie?"

"Nothing!" Oliver swooped down to grab the fallen containers. He shoved them back into the cabinet unceremoniously, causing some more to try flying lessons. "Just dropping spice tins all over the place! Argh!"

"Babe, babe, chill out-"

A cylinder of salt tumbled onto the floor, diffusing into a mess of white particles. Oliver slammed the other ingredients in his hands onto the counter, and clasped his palms over his eyes. "I cannot deal with this."

"What, a lil' spill?" Allen knelt down to pick up the salt shaker and the cap that decided to roll away and hide underneath the cabinets.

Oliver took his fingers from his face, sniffling, "No, Allen, all this drama about these idiots running around _and getting guns of all things?_ These are other children that have weapons in their pockets, and for what? Are they planning on shooting up the place?!"

The other teen sprung to his feet, and stepped over the salty mess to toss his arms around the baker's sides. "Hey, chill. It's too early to tell yet. They're tryin' somethin' that's fer sure, but all we can do now is brace fer the worse, an' see how things roll out. If we gotta fight 'em so be it!"

Oliver viciously shrugged away, and backed up a few steps with a scowl embedded on his face. "Fight them? Both you and Luciano say the same thing. You really think fighting them is going to make things better?"

Allen's eyes flickered around the kitchen, and he shrugged. "Well, what else are we gon' do? Ask 'em politely to fuck off?"

"We could tell Miss Warden about this! It is her house! I am sure she does not want any lunatics bringing in firearms!"

"Didn't she ever tell you that we gotta deal wit' this kind o' shit on our own? I mean, that's what she told us, but I'm not sure if she told you the same thing-"

"She did, but this is not a minor disagreement. Lives are at stake. People could get killed!"

Allen drew closer to him, voice dropping to a nearly frightened growl, "Ollie, she'd get the police here. We can't take that chance."

"Why? What are the police really going to do? We are innocent."

"Ha-ha, maybe you are, but if they get even the smallest hint we're stirrin' up stuff, they're gon' be on us like flies on shit. Sorry, Ollie, but there's a whole lot of us in there that don't got nice things to say 'bout the cops. Hey, didn't cops take away your ma?"

"That is different." Oliver remained tense as ever as his company crept forward to squeeze his biceps. "Not only has that time come and pass, but we can stop someone from dying or getting seriously injured before it can even happen."

"You gotta listen, babe!" Allen gave him a little shake, and the baker clenched his teeth. "If it were just you and that Crookedface fella, I'd be all fer callin' the squad or whatever, but it ain't like that. This is too big, and too involved to get anyone else into this. We gotta deal wit' it on our own."

Oliver raised his hands that were balled at his sides, and pushed Allen on the shoulders. "Fine. I put my ideas on the table, but if you idiots want to dive into the fray and get yourselves hurt, then go ahead. I cannot stop you."

"Hey!" Matt's head popped into view. "Siegmund wants to go back...Uh...What's up?" He glanced between his brother steadily glaring at Oliver, while Oliver had his arms crossed, and scorned the floor. "You know what, forget I said that. Allen, you going home with us?"

Without releasing his scalding gaze, Allen said, "Yeah, I'm right behind ya."

Matt shrugged, and ducked out of the kitchen without saying anything else.

"You gon' come wit' us?"

"No. I have to stay and watch over Bella."

"She can take care of herself, Ollie."

"Just go home to the rest of them, Allen."

Allen audibly ground his teeth. "We don't want to do it. It's somethin' we gotta do."

"Whatever," Oliver snapped, flushing redder out of anger. "You go out and punch a few twats in the face, but I am getting no part in it."

The kitchen was silent for a few breaths, until Allen stuck a hand to his mouth, and had the audacity to snicker. "You..."

"What." Oliver seethed, "What could be possibly funny about this whole situation?"

"Nothin' is really funny, it's just that..." Allen glanced to his shoes, but when the baker looked down, too, he slung his arms around his shoulders while Oliver's arms were still crossed, making for an odd embrace. Oliver clenched his fists further, but only gotten more red in the face as his company planted his lips from his cheek to his ear. "I'm really glad you said that. Keep safe, y'know?"

Suddenly, he was left to stand alone by the counter, gazing at the other boy's retreating back in disbelief. "What...you just said..." Oliver put his hand to his cheek, and the front door groaned as it shut, leaving him to stew in his thoughts and feelings. He tersely concluded, "I am never going to understand that idiot."

Somewhere, in a deep hidden recess within the kitchen, he swore he heard giggling again.


	24. Chapter 23

"Wow! Look at all these pretty ladies!"

One of the girls beside Oliver gulped down her cereal with a drawn out, "Oh, my god."

As soon as he walked in the dining hall, Luciano gasped in ecstasy at the sight of the many girls sitting at the tables instead of their usual spot on the bleachers. Flavio seemed delightfully shocked, too, but kept his joy more contained. His brother continued with clasped hands, "It makes me happy that all of you came by to bless me with your beauty!"

"What's the occasion?" Flavio asked.

Instead of the gathered girls groaning in distaste at his antics, which consisted of strange gestures and winking, they giggled and gushed. That was when Oliver realized there was a very fine line between disgust and interest. He rose out of his seat, hoping to talk to the Italians, but he was uncertain if it was a good idea to disturb Luciano's perch against one of the tables, tittering with a pair of sisters.

"Err...Luciano," Oliver began.

Flavio answered for him. "What do you want?"

With a double glance, Luciano slowly became attentive, and gazed at his disturbance in wonder. "What's up, Oliver? We heard about the ideas the others were tossing about to stop the stupid monkey attacks. It honestly does not surprise me that they are creeping around like that."

"They are not just creeping. They are armed now."

"So am I!"

"With guns, Luciano."

Luciano gasped, and held his hands up. "Oh no, a gun? Should I be scared?"

Oliver glanced between the brothers in half-confusion, half-horror. "Y-yes? Guns are very dangerous. They even say that you should not bring a knife-"

"Yawn!" Flavio slapped his hand over his mouth. "'Don't bring a knife to a gun fight, blah, blah, blah.' That's the stupidest load of shit I've heard. They don't know my knife! I could have a machete that shoots lasers."

His brother furrowed his eyebrows in a difficult ponder. "But...if it shot lasers, then it would not really be a knife anymore, would it?"

Oliver put in over Flavio, "Yes, all right. We get it. So, about these blokes that are running around; I had an idea that none of us should be out by ourselves, in case we make easy targets."

Flavio said, "Like Lutz?"

"Yes, what happened with Lutz."

Luciano crossed his arms, intensifying his pout.

Oliver continued, "I was hoping we could rearrange a buddy-basis of some sort to counteract against this new threat, but the problem is that we cannot pair up with the same people all the time. Some of us have jobs and places to be."

"What?" Flavio swished his hand, "Do we draw up a schedule, and have little name stickers for each day?"

Luciano let off a little giggle, and his brother smacked his arm. Oliver tried to keep his tone level. "No, we can figure that out day by day, I suppose. We can meet up here every morning, and chew it over breakfast."

"The only thing you should chew at breakfast is breakfast itself," Luciano claimed like a philosopher.

"After breakfast," Oliver said. The doors opened again, and other inhabitants entered the dining hall. "Have you seen the others?"

Flavio flapped a hand. "They're probably still sleeping!"

Kuro stopped beside him, giving the blond a distasteful scowl. "Excuse you."

"Hello, Kuro," Oliver said fondly. "Did you sleep well?"

The other teen turned to him, looking afraid. "Why would you ask that?"

Oliver's shoulders fell. "I-I was just wondering..." He shook his head when Kuro stared blankly. "Are the others on their way? We have an announcement to make regarding the threat of attack from Crookednose's posse."

Kuro raised his neat eyebrows. "Is that what we call them now? Very well. I go get my breakfast now."

Oliver went to the girls he was talking to, and plucked his half eaten breakfast from the table. "You will need to excuse me, ladies. I have some plotting to do."

They shot the boys glares for stealing him away. "Sure, Oliver. Don't forget about that salt scrub we were talking about."

"I will not forget," he promised, hurrying to one of the corner tables were the other boys were gathering. Eventually the two pairs of brothers waltzed in, gaffing at something that happened before they arrived.

Lutz stammered, "There's...there's no way." After wheezing from lack of breath, he said, "Down the street? _In a barrel?_ "

Allen grinned ear to ear. "One of the best rides in my life."

"Hey," the other blond called out. "We have changed seats."

"Calm down, Lutz," Flavio told him. "Believe it or not, change can be healthy."

"I-I didn't say it-"

Luciano jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Get your breakfast. We have lots to talk about."

Allen threw his arms in the air. "Baby!" He hurried to Oliver to wrap around his waist and land a few healthy smooches to his cheek. "You feelin' a bit better today?"

" _Hmph,_ I suppose I am." Oliver gave away to a flurry of giggles. "Dork!"

"You're kinda a dork, too, Ollie."

"What!" Oliver squawked against the hand fiddling with his bowtie. "I am not!"

"Are too!" Another, rougher kiss to the side of his head, "You said you like dorky guys, right? That means you're a dork."

"You...!" Oliver could not fathom an appropriate name, so he sharply sighed, but lost to more silly snickers. "Go get something to eat."

"You don't got to tell me twice," Allen claimed, sauntering to the kitchen.

One of his bench mates let out a low whistle, causing everyone to snicker. Oliver glanced at them, and they avoided his gaze. "What is so funny?"

Lutz put his hand to his chin, grumbling, "Hm, I wonder..." His brother smacked the table, suffering from silent laughter. He reached over for Kuro to somehow help his hilarious torment, but the other boy, slightly disturbed, leaned the other way.

Flavio keenly observed, "It seems like you caught yourself the catch there, Oliver."

"What?" The baker echoed, not keeping up.

"No," Lutz said, "More like he dove out of the water to pull _him_ in." Luciano let out a short, dry laugh, and he never looked more proud of himself.

Oliver growled, "I am _not_ laughing."

"Of course not," Flavio swished a hand. "You don't see yourselves, so how can you laugh?"

"What in the world are you going on about?"

The question made them laugh harder. Oliver scoffed and threw his hands at them, telling that he was not going to listen to their antics. Luciano started a stupid tune, "Oliver and Allen, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Keep quiet!" Oliver snapped.

Siegmund started to choke on a biscuit, smacking his chest, but still laughing as Luciano continued, relentless, "First comes love, then comes marriage, and then..." he trailed off, growing deathly confused. After a few slaps delivered to his back from his brother, the mute smacked his lips, and looked to the Italian for the ending of his song. "Well, usually then comes the baby carriage, but I don't think that is going to happen."

Oliver could only glower at the table as his bench mates tittered. Lutz leaned to one side to announce, " _Ja,_ because they're gay."

Flavio shot the other blond an unimpressed look. "You're the gay one."

A low, muffled gagging sound erupted from Kuro as he, too, started choking on his breakfast.

"What?!" Lutz's cheeks inflamed pink. "I am not!"

"Oh, please!" Luciano scoffed. "You are straighter than boiled spaghetti!"

"You would know," Flavio snickered.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Oliver giggled lowly to himself, pleased how the tables turned as the other two brothers returned from the kitchen, setting their plates on both sides of him. Getting the conversation on its original track, he asked, "So what are the plans for this buddy system? Are we going to solve it day-by-day, or are we going to stick with certain people?"

"Day-by-day," Luciano declared before Allen could say anything as his mouth popped open. "I don't want things to get stale."

"All right. What is everyone doing today? We can sort it out based on who is going where and when. I have to go to the bakery soon, so if anyone is going that way..."

Allen shot his hand in the air. "I want to go!"

"Of course you do," Luciano tittered, "but are you going to stay there so you two are not walking back alone?"

Matt spoke up, "Siegmund and I are going to be that way. We can walk Oliver to the bakery, and he can pick him up."

"Wait," Lutz furrowed his eyebrows. "Allen will be alone going up if that is the case."

"Dammit," Flavio hissed. "This is harder than we thought."

"Ooh!" Luciano had an idea. "What if we run out of here? Who cares if we are by ourselves? If we literally sprint out of the building..."

"If you want to look like an idiot running around everywhere, then knock yourself out," his brother said. "They might see you running, however, and chase you for fun, because they're assholes like that."

"It was just idea."

"Besides," Lutz announced, "Just because you are not on the property anymore, that doesn't mean you're safe. They have no qualms about sneaking out. How do you think they're getting the weapons the police officer was talking about?"

"Wow, Lutz is thinking for once!" Flavio announced, which caused the other teen to duck his head with an anxious scowl.

Luciano smacked his brother's arm. "Stop being mean to him."

"Oh, ' _scusa_. Only you can do that, I forgot."

Oliver gripped his plastic fork tighter at how easy the gathering went astray. "Perhaps Allen should come up with Matt and Siegmund, and just stay at the bakery the rest of the day, so neither of us are walking back alone. I-if that is okay with you."

"Yeah," Allen said, "As long as you feed me."

"Of course."

"Sweet!" He performed a fist pump. The rest of the table stared at him in vague wonder.

Luciano snipped, "Kuro, Lutz, you're with me today. Right?"

" _J-ja,_ as always!"

Kuro muttered, "Do I have a choice?"

"What, you suddenly have big plans? Luciano asked. "If you do, then tell me."

"I will put that in mind," the other teen replied just as frostily.

"Good," the brunet said. "And we already have Matt and Siegmund going off somewhere together, so nobody is alone for the time being."

Matt let out a low growl. Oliver slightly scooted to his other side while his focus was on the Italian, and Allen invited him closer with an arm around his back.

"Make sure you stay with your pals, too," Flavio spat. "If you lose one another, or run off by yourself for some stupid reason, it is your fault if you get ganked. Don't pin the blame on your partners or groupies."

The dining hall doors swung open, followed by a short, dry noise of amusement, not quite laughter. The occupants hushed, glaring at the intrusion. As the said posse made their way to ransack the kitchen, they were absolutely pleased at all the eyes on them. Lutz keenly observed, "That is one way to shut a bunch of kids up."

"Assholes," Luciano hissed, his words staying around his own table. Another random Housemate swerved purposely out of the way to avoid the other group's path. "Look at that. It used to be them being petty thieves, and you would only have to make sure you don't get pickpocketed. That's what it is like outside, but now..."

"This is getting out of hand," Oliver grumbled, turning from glaring over his shoulder, to his plate, but the food seemed bland for his refined tastes and soured mood. He pushed the leftovers to Allen, who eagerly snatched it without a word.

"You have those kind everywhere," Matt said. "It's just like all those other times, right Al?"

"I don't know, bro. Back then, those were small packs of hillbillies that got too excited wit' pitchforks in their hands. These guys got a pack mentality or somethin'. They're more tricky."

"Doesn't matter," the rugged teen claimed. "We'll kick their asses like we did with the others."

Allen let out loud gawfs over the other Housemate's low mutterings of insults to Crookednose's posse. "You got that right!"

Oliver casted a suspicious pucker at the twins. "Do not do anything stupid."

Matt snorted, "Then what is the point of him doing anything?"

After breakfast, the four designated boys left for the bakery. Oliver glanced to his neighbor's table, and he swore most, if not all, of their eyes were on him. He resisted the urge to quickly look away, shying from their stares. Instead, he met their gazes with his own scowl. They leaned to one other, gesturing vaguely as they hissed in each other's ears. The baker knew from the girls that they were plotting something when that happened.

His panicked thoughts of the rivalry were snipped by Allen's hand clasping onto his as they approached the front gate, and floated away to other, lesser places at that moment. "D'you think Bella's got somethin' fer us in the oven?"

"Not for you!" Oliver teased.

"Aw, come on, babe!"

"You just ate your breakfast, and half of mine."

"I'm a growin' man!"

"Yeah, your waistline's growin'."

Allen twisted around to glare at Matt, who was reminding them that he and Siegmund were quietly following. "No one asked the peanut gallery."

"Fuck you," Matt shot unthreateningly. "Your brain is a peanut."

"Somethin' else is a peanut, too-!" Oliver yanked on Allen's arm to quiet him. Siegmund must have pretended it was not funny, but his triumphing smirk won over a neautral expression.

The baker asked, "Are you two going to come in for something to grab along the way?"

"We have places to go."

Allen let out short laugh. "Like what?"

"Like mind your own business," his brother grumbled.

"What if an emergency happens, an' we don't know where you are. What then?"

"If you don't do anything stupid, then there will not be an emergency."

"Oh!" Oliver exclaimed, tossing his eyes around playfully. "That is asking a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Everyone only ignored, or snickered at Allen. He gave his and Oliver's conjoined hands an angry swing. "Man, I don't know if you guys are wit' me or against me!"

Matt said, "We're against stupidity."

"But you always say I'm stupid!"

"You act stupid. There's difference."

Allen let out a half whine, half grumble, "Come on."

"Yeah," Matt prompted. "Come on, we'll never get to the bakery at this pace."

"Uh oh!" Anabella sang when they arrived at her bakery. The other pair quickly left to do their own things without coming inside. "Double trouble! I am going to be eaten out of house and home."

"Bella," Oliver greeted with a bright smile. "You are up and about!"

"I cannot stay in bed all day. As nice as that sounds, it can get unbelievably boring after fourteen hours." She tipped her head, gazing behind her worker. "Allen, are you hungry?"

The other boy grumbled, "I'm always hungry, I guess."

"Then I will make something for you."

"Should I help-"

"Sit down, Oliver," Anabella said. "If I need you, I will call for you."

"If you insist," Oliver lightly sighed, and turned for one of the tables. He brushed by Allen, who followed more slowly. "It is nice to see her walking around. The bakery is not right without her."

Allen mustered a small, lopsided grin, settling in an adjacent chair. "Yeah, I wonder what was wrong wit' her."

Oliver remembered the blood she coughed up, and the absolute refusal to seek medical help. "Maybe it was a fever. At her age, those things can be deadly." The other teen grew quiet, tracing faint cracks across the surface of the plastic table. The baker reached over and pressed his hand on one of his. "What is wrong?"

"Who said somethin' was wrong?"

It was so obvious Allen was moping. Oliver claimed with a little grin and a sway of his shoulders, "I know things."

With a sharp sigh, Allen lolled his head to one side to prop up his elbow. "I don't know, Ollie. I just don't wanna be _that_ guy in our lil' group."

"What guy?"

"You know, _that_ guy. The one everyone invites so they don't feel bad. The one that they all snicker an' celebrate when he leaves."

"Do you really think we see you that way?"

Allen vigorously scratched his head, poorly covering his embarrassment. "Everybody says those things 'bout me. Like, I'm fat an' stupid. It really brings a guy down, y'know?"

"Friends dig at one another all the time. It is only light hearted teasing."

"That doesn't stop it from hurtin'."

"Who cares if you are fat?" Oliver spat, and Allen widened his eyes, placing a hand over his stomach. "I mean, if you were to ever become 'fat.' That means you get plenty to eat. Believe it or not, it is rather flattering that somebody enjoys what you put on the table." The baker's face grew hot as the other stared intensely, and he giggled from his fluster. "A-about being stupid, that is not true, too. You managed to survive so long on the streets. That takes a certain kind of smartness not everyone is capable of. I know I would not be able to do it."

Just when he thought he was babbling, Allen let out a bout of deep giggles, and slung an arm over his shoulder, causing both of them to lean closer to one another. "Aw, shit, babe, ain't that sweet?"

"I-it is nothing, really..."

"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" Anabella's voice drifted from the kitchen. Oliver straightened as much as he could with Allen still clinging to him. She emerged behind the counter with two glasses of milk, but her smile seemed made of plaster.

"Thank you, Bella." Oliver glanced from the cups she set on the table to her furrowed brows. "Is everything all right?"

"Do not worry, Oliver," she said, turning away. "The marshmallow cakes will be out soon."

Oliver stared after her scuffling departure with a fixed frown. He lightly exclaimed, "That is not what I asked!"

Allen wiggled in his seat, reaching to play with the baker's bowtie. "Ooh, marshmallow stuff. Sounds sweet."

"Knowing Bella, it probably is," Oliver crept an arm around the other boy's back, earning a squeeze for himself.

"I bet it's not as sweet as you," Allen snickered, pressing closer to kiss Oliver's face wherever he could in their embrace.

"Aw, how cute. I almost vomited in my mouth," somebody sneered behind them.

Both gasped, and pulled away, twisting to face the newcomer. Oliver was about to apologize for the inappropriate display, but his shocked face fell into a scowl. Allen leaped out of his seat, gripping the white metal as if he were plotting to swing the chair at the other pair of boys from Crookednose's gang. Oliver's neighbor was not present, but any of his pals meant trouble. The baker stood more calmly, but equally stiff to rest a palm on Allen's clenched arm. "Did you need something?"

They looked to him as if they did not believe Oliver had the audacity to question their motives. "What, we're not allowed to shop around town?"

Allen let out a low growl, the skin around his knuckles paling against his equipped weapon. "Don't give us that bull. Why you creepin' around?"

"Did you _not_ just hear me? I said we're here for something sweet." The duo landed their gaze on Oliver, daring to grin like sharks.

"Well, what do you want?" The baker asked, "Do you need a menu?"

"What is this?" Anabella came from the kitchen with square tray. "New customers? Oliver, why did you not tell me?" She set the marshmallow squares on their table, flickering her eyes around the four teens. "Do you know each other?"

"We're all from the House," one of other boys announced.

Anabella gasped, "Really? That makes us all from the same vine. Here, have something to eat. I know with all those other children, you can only eat what you need to survive at that place. Relax and enjoy yourselves." She turned away, distracted by a sharp cough to notice Oliver's look of poorly suppressed horror. The other duo let out snooty sounds, noisily settled at the table, and eagerly grabbed the elder's beautiful treats.

"B-Bella-"

"Ah, I am getting a little tired. Would you mind manning the bakeshop?" Anabella asked, already making her way to the stairs, and not giving Oliver an opportunity to refuse.


	25. Chapter 24

Allen was tense by Oliver's side, obviously infuriated by the obnoxious chomping sounds that meant his hopes of a tasty snack were jeopardized. Softly under his breath, but full of venom, he hissed, "Ollie...what the fuck."

"We should sit down," Oliver civilly suggested. He used a moment to level his breathing before slowly turning around, and lowering himself back into his chair.

"Wow," one of the boys said with a mouth full of chocolate and marshmallow, "this is really good."

"That old lady knows what she is doing, apparently."

"So, this is were you hide out, huh, Oliver?"

The baker turned his head away, directing his statement to Allen, "I do not hide from anything, or anyone." That must have prompted the other teen to sit down with a loud huff. It made their Housemates exchange snarky half-grins.

The porkier boy remarked, "Really? I thought your kind has safe spots that they can be themselves, away from the real world."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "My kind? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know, smilers and all those outcasts. You never see them around that often."

"Yeah," his companion tapped his chin, looking to the ceiling. "Almost as if they were some strange, rare breed..."

"Or as if they are brainwashed..."

"Is this what this is about?" Oliver snapped. Allen angrily took a chomp of one of the treats, opting to keep unusually quiet. "I was thinking for a split second that your gang would get over themselves, and put everything aside to enjoy a light snack."

The bonier teen put his hands in the air. "Don't worry, we are. It's just that while we are here-"

"You minus well say what you please, right?" Allen barked. "If this was my bakery, I would've thrown you out before you even stepped into it."

The other duo let out suppressed snickers. "Yeah, but it's not. It is not even Oliver's bakery. It's that old woman's, and she seemed more than willing to pat us on the back and give us free food."

"Good free food," the chubbier boy bobbed his head, and shoveled another marshmallow square in his face. His friend elbowed his side, but the gesture did not registered against his squishy stomach, or he was not paying attention with the warm treats in his hands.

"Well, you have your food," Oliver pointed out. "Is there anything else, or are you finished?"

Porky, the baker remembered his neighbor calling him that name during the apple escapade, let out a hissy breath, and wiped his mouth from the spittle. "There are still some squares left."

Allen snatched them, cramming them in his own mouth as sloppily as the other boy did. "Now there ain't," he managed, almost gagging on marshmallow.

The other pair seemed vaguely impressed. The thinner boy announced, "It is a shame. You are a pretty cool guy, Allen."

"I made my decision, an' I told you already. Then you proceeded to hunt me down fer refusin', an' wound up slicin' one of my friends."

"That was not our doing. I would dare apologize for my cousin's hot headedness, but since your brother nearly mauled us, I'm not going to do it."

"Of course not," Oliver said. "Apologizing is above you."

Allen flinched with a lopsided grin. "Ooh."

Porky snatched leftover crumbs from the empty tray as his companion rolled his eyes at Oliver's giggle. "I mean it, Allen. We're not evil. We're just living as anyone else has to in the real world. It's not a joyride out there. You take what you need if you can. You of all people should know that."

Allen shot to his feet, looming over the sitting teens. "Don't give me that shit. That's what it is. Shit. You guys do what you do for shits an' giggles. My brother an' I had done bad things to survive." He hesitated with a 'I just licked a lemon' expression, but jumped back in before any of the other two said anything, "'sides, whatever happened, I'm wit' Ollie, an' I'm stayin' there."

"Well, Oliver is admirably snarky, so if he would chill out with-"

"I would not do anything. I am happy with where I am, and who I am with." Oliver gestured to the empty plate. "Now, if you are finished..."

Both of the other boys snorted. "Whatever," Porky pushed himself from the table with a grunt. "Keep smiling, weirdoes."

"We will," Oliver shot back with a wicked simper. "Thank you."

"You dropped something, moron," the other boy muttered to his companion. With a sound of exasperation, Porky leaned to one side, and swiped whatever tumbled out of his pocket onto the floor. "Let's go. We have better things to do."

"Then why did you ever come here?" Allen growled, but the other duo hurried and shuffled toward the door. He and Oliver saw Porky jam his hand in his pocket as he passed by, but the baker had no idea what was on the floor, since his line of sight was blocked by the table when he sat. His partner, however, still standing from his outburst, gawked at their retreating backs. Once the door squeaked closed, he gripped Oliver's upper arm. "Ollie, we got to follow 'em."

"What? Why? Do not be so ridiculous. We just got them out of here-"

"That guy just dropped almost a grand of cash on the ground. Why would you need that much if you're just goin' to a bakery?"

Oliver tipped his head. "Maybe they are running errands. Other kids can have jobs."

Allen gave his arm another tug. "Come on, babe. Wit' the way they are actin' out with our pals, an' what that cop was sayin' about kids gettin' weapons, doesn't it add up? The only thing you need that kind o' money fer is drugs, guns, or a new TV. I don't think they're interested in watchin' sports, either."

"That seems a bit paranoid..." Oliver weakly protested, glancing around the bakery for an excuse to do something else. Unfortunately, Anabella liked to keep the place nearly spotless.

"Hey, didn't you say yourself it was better to be safe than sorry? What if they are plottin' somethin', an' it could mean big shit fer us?"

"They could just be shopping for clothes or other safe things."

"Let's make sure. There ain't nothin' wrong wit' that."

Oliver grimaced, begrudgingly rising from his chair. "Let me tell Bella I am going step out for a tad bit."

"No, we gotta go now, before we lose 'em." Another urgent tug. "I'm sure she'll understand."

"But..." Despite his weak protests, Oliver allowed himself to be led out of the bakery. "Wait, let me lock the doors, at least."

With an impatient sigh, Allen jammed his hands in his jacket pockets, and glanced down the street. "I still see 'em. They went that way," he pointed to the opposite direction of the House. The other teens' backs vanished in front of pedestrians. He grabbed for Oliver's hand again, pulling him along as soon as the door knob clicked. As soon as the others' backsides were visible again, they slowed to a less suspicious pace, blending with the surrounding people carrying on with their usual lives.

"I do not like this part of town," Oliver admitted. The shops grew more desolate as they continued, abandoned or soon to abandoned, and the crowd thinned. People turned away from the slums, steering to more livelier crowds and places. It grew progressively worse; apartments had shattered windows and crumbling bricks scattered on the ground from where they broke off from the sides of the buildings. The baker caught glimpses of dark movement in the bare windows, and pressed closer to Allen's side, realizing he was just as tense as well. His free hand was clutching onto the seam of his jacket, slipping beneath the leather for something inside.

The other duo took a sharp turn between two old shops. Oliver and Allen stopped before the alley way in which they disappeared into, hiding along the grayed bricks. They peeked pass the wall, catching the boys turning behind the adjacent building. After a moment of silence between them, a door squawked, and thumped shut.

"I think they went in there now," Allen muttered. "Maybe we can peek in through the front windows." He tossed a quick glance around the squalid environment before approaching the boarded shop. Oliver stayed in his spot, watching him crouch and duck as if he were in a field of lasers that would fry him to ashes. He tried not to laugh, since the situation and his surroundings were severe, but a tiny snicker escaped anyway.

Allen snapped his head in his direction, and swished a hand to beckon Oliver closer. "Why you laughin' right now?"

"You looked like a secret spy."

"This is real stuff, Ollie!" Allen whispered back.

"How real?"

He looked between the wooden boards bolted across the dirty window pane for answers. A counter with an abused register sat before their spot, once greeting customers as soon as they walked through the door. Along side of it, stairs ran to the upper floor, but on the other side, the boys had joined a couple of others that waited between littered shelves.

"Heh, this'll be easy." Allen ducked under the windows, hidden from the range of sight as he slunk to the entrance. "They picked a perfect place to meet up."

"Why are they meeting up, though?" Oliver put his hands on one of the boards to peek at the other teens ambling around the old racks. "Already, this is suspicious."

"So you glad you came wit' me?"

"Not necessarily glad." The baker ducked like the other boy had done, and awkwardly scooted closer.

"All right, Ollie, we got to be super quiet. If they find out we followed 'em..." Allen's eyes widened. "I don't know what they got on 'em, an' I ain't in the mood to find out."

"What are we going to do?"

"When I somehow get this door open without 'em noticin', we creep up to the upper floor. Usually shops like this got an apartment on the upper floors, so we can listen in while they gab."

Oliver gave him a blank look. "If that is the case, then we should use the fire escape."

Allen stared, puzzled. "Holy shit," he cracked a broad grin. "You're a natural at this!"

"Th-thank you?" Oliver said questionably, and watched the other boy scoot pass him, going after the side of the shop.

"What'chu waitin' fer? Come on," Allen prompted, standing once he was out of sight of the window. Oliver still stayed as the other teen went around the building. A few moments later, he returned, with a frazzled expression. "I guess it's on the other side of the shop."

He obviously did not see that there was no fire escape the first time pass the alley. Oliver rolled his eyes, unable to help but smile as Allen knelt down to waddle pass him. "Idiot."

The upper floor was illuminated by a giant hole in the ceiling, and whatever fell through it, crashed to the lower floor. A crater dented the store's lower floor behind the check out counter, and the pair could peer at the other boys lazing around the shelves that were not destroyed. The floorboards were darkened with burns, and Oliver was truly nervous about going anywhere remotely close to the hole, in case the wood was rotten and weak, about to cave on itself.

Allen was less afraid, laying on his stomach to sneakily follow the movements of those below. The baker lowered himself to the floorboards, pressing against them with his palms to test their strength. He crept closer to the hole, stiffening as the wood creaked quietly. It must have been louder in his ears, since the other teen did not move at all until Oliver huddled against him to peek through the gap.

"What are they doing?" He asked, scowling at the boys pushing each other around, and snort to urge their companions on.

"Bein' stupid?" Allen leaned closer to whisper, "Honestly, Ollie, this whole thing screams it."

Oliver trained his eyes on the commotion below. One of the boys baited another who angrily stomped around a shelf to get to him, "Come on! Come on, little guy!"

"Stop calling me little, or the first thing I am going to do when I get my stuff is make sure your knee pays for it!"

"Ooh!" The taunter did a strange dance with his hands held in the air. "I'm scared."

"Enough with the racket," a familiar voice snarled. "You two are acting like stereotypical fools. Would you behave yourself at least until our man arrives and leaves?!"

"Err, yes, sorry, I guess," they mumbled, dropping their antics.

"Ollie," Allen hissed, "That's..."

"I know," Oliver murmured. His neighbor stepped into the light filtering to the lower floor, and craned his head to face the sky.

Allen clamped a hand on Oliver's forearm when he shrunk back. "Don't move," he breathed out, not making any motion with his mouth. "He might detect us if he sees us movin'."

Crookednose pondered the sunlight, letting it push his eyes shut, and play with his pale skin. Porky let an obnoxious burp rip through his throat, causing him to snap them open again with a vile glower. The chubby boy swished a hand in front of his face, and rumbled, "I kind of ate too many marshmallow squares."

"What else is new?" Oliver's neighbor asked almost gently. Their gazes snapped to the front of the store as the door creaked open, allowing more light to dawn across the floor. Crookednose straightened, and put his hands on his waist, which puffed out his chest. His tone reverted to a boisterous bellow, "Have you had any trouble?"

A new figure emerged into view, a suited man stepping into the sunlight. He turned his head up, squinting at the brightness. Crookednose cleared his throat, which retracted his attention. "Whether I had trouble or not, I am here now."

"With our stuff?"

" _My_ stuff, currently."

Oliver's neighbor sighed, and gestured Porky to come closer. The other boy dug in his pocket, and slapped the clump of money in his smaller hand. "Wow, you managed to not lose it this time." He turned back to the man. "Let's see the goods, first."

"Like I would waste my time bringing you stupid shit."

"Hey," Crookednose shrugged, clutching the money closer. "It's risky business."

"I know," the man flipped his suitcase's latches. "The police are already snooping around. You boys need to be more careful."

They did not pay attention as huddled closer to gaze at the suitcases contents. Allen shifted to the side to see what the fuss was about. His eyes widened, his usual demeanor sinking to a look of silent horror. Oliver could only gaze at him in fierce question, obliged to be quiet in their situation. Crookednose deposited his money in the man's outstretched hand once the case clicked close with two distinct snaps. The stranger surrendered his goods, and the boy was taken back by its weight for a moment.

"Like I said before," the man jabbed a finger at Oliver's neighbor, "we are done now. We should not speak to one another again."

Allen tapped Oliver's arm, causing him to jump. "We gotta get out of here."

Oliver was more than willing to comply. He slowly rolled away from the gap, and only stood up when he touched the wall closest to the exit. Allen was already lifting his leg out of the window. "Wait for me, you dolt."

As soon as they touched the ground, Allen tapped the baker's back side, and jerked a thumb down the street. "We got to get back to the others ASAP!"

"What about your brother? We do not know where he is!"

"Dammit!" Allen stamped a foot on the ground.

"Hush!" Oliver repeatedly tapped his finger to his own lips. "They could hear you. We need to leave before that man comes out."

"That means we gotta run!" Allen spun around, and suddenly sprinted away.

"Oh, running." Oliver groaned before taking after the other boy. He felt himself gallop much more awkwardly and slower than Allen, and blamed it on his clunky footwear. In truth, Allen ran like an Olympian getting warmed up; he must have been used to the awful thing called running. By the time they reached the bakery (or when Oliver reached the bakery several moments later), he had his hands on his hips, letting out a light sigh to level his breathing.

"Ollie? Are you okay?"

Oliver shambled pass the front windows, his legs feeling like rubbery pasta. He smacked his lips together, too dry to painlessly say anything. He opted to shake his head, and brace against the glass.

"Jeez, we only got the bakery. We got to get to the House."

The baker pointed to Anabella's car, and grabbed the keys he jammed in his trousers' pocket.

"Yeah! That'll make things go by quicker!"

Allen earned a vile glare at his boosted outlook from the running. Running was supposed to make him feel bad; Oliver wondered if there was something wrong with his partner. However, he did not dote on the other's flushed cheeks and wind tussled hair when they raided the old woman's sedan, getting to the House much faster than they would on foot.

Oliver mustered through his parched throat, "What was even in there?"

"Guns, babe. Way more than they need."


	26. Chapter 25

"What are we going to say to them?" Oliver wondered aloud. "My neighbor has obtained weapons, and are planning on shooting us?"

"We don't know that. Guns aren't just fer shootin'," Allen said. "They could be used to make some fellas afraid o' you."

"Is this is what it is about? Instilling fear into everyone? Are they that starved-"

"Ollie. Ollie, chill out."

Oliver gripped the steering wheel until the leather squeaked, and threw the stick shift into park. "Maybe Lutz is right. We should tell Miss Warden that they are bringing in those things. She would not let me have chalk inside the grounds, let alone guns-"

"She would get the police into this," Allen said as he always did. "What would they do? They'd want to know how we found out 'bout this, an' get us fer associatin' wit' 'em. I don't wanna argue 'bout this again."

With a growl that irritated his already dry throat, Oliver shoved the car door open, escaping its metal confines. "They are already planning on bringing a confrontation of some sort. For now, we just need to plan and be prepared accordingly."

"Shit, we don't even know where anybody is. Everybody is scattered."

Oliver did not say anything, rushing to throw open the front door, and startled Miss Warden with his odd entrance. "Miss Warden! Have you seen any of our friends around here?"

The elder slowly lowered her steaming cup on her desk without breaking eye contact. "I do not make a habit to closely monitor the inhabitants of my youth hostel."

The boy clutched onto a clump of his hair, lowly whining in agitation. She professionally lifted a thin brow. He grabbed Allen's hand, and towed him toward the stair case. "Come on. I have an idea."

"Ollie, if they're outside, shouldn't we-"

Oliver stopped at the top of the steps, turning to poke a finger in Allen's chest. "You need to go around and ask anyone and everyone if they heard where and when our friends, and Crookednose's gang ran off."

"Wait," Allen rubbed the offended area. "Why you wonderin' about that Crooked bastard?"

"I need to know if they left around the time our friends did. If they did, then they must have followed each of us to our respective destinations."

"What? Why?"

Oliver turned from storming down the hall toward his bedroom. "I am just suspicious! You need to see before I say anymore!"

"Babe, where you goin'?!"

He slammed his door shut and twisted the lock. Immediately, he fell to the ground, and snatched a stick of chalk from his pocket, using it to furiously scratch on the wooden planks. "Line, line, triple branch, circle..." Oliver clutched onto the stick so he would not leave it behind as he flopped in the middle oval of the large sigil. "Whisk me away," he told the pattern. "I need to be where Matt is. Matt!"

Such intense emotions prompted the flow to come easy, and Oliver found himself in a patch of cyan grass, outside again so quickly. He sprung to his feet, stumbling back a few steps, but did not allow his dizziness to impede his mission. The park was small, open to the parking lot of a local pharmacy, and did not have a lot to its name besides a few swings and a slide coming from a set of monkey bars.

Matt and Siegmund were on the swings, swaying side to side instead of back and forth, ultimately bumping into one another whenever their seats collided. Somehow, they were pleased with the ordeal, and even the blond was wearing a rare smile. Oliver hurried to them, interrupting the mute latching onto the other boy's chains to take him into his own orbit. "Excuse me!"

They drug their feet against the dirt to stop their antics, gazing at the baker with shocked expressions. "Oliver, what are you doing here?"

"Don't ask," Oliver pleaded, his head still whirling. He lost his footing, and took a sloppy step to the side. "You need to get back to the House right away. It is urgent!"

Both of them leaped from their swings. Siegmund was tense, balling his hands into fists, but of course, Matt did the talking, "Did someone get hurt again?"

"They might be soon if you do not get there! Where are Luciano and his lads?"

"He said he was taking them out to some kind of fancy Italian place."

"Matt, this is Italy! Most, if not all the places, are fancy Italian!"

The blond shrugged, lost for words. A loud beeping startled the three of them, and Siegmund repeatedly attacked his jean's pockets. He produced a black square that made the annoying noise, and squinted at it. "What is that? Oh, I didn't know you had one of those."

"What?" Oliver asked, coming closer.

Siegmund held out the device, revealing a thin screen that was only large enough to show a single line of text. _URGENT COME HOME._ Allen must have already found them. Matt said, "It's a pager. Who gave that to you?" Oliver stared at the mute's signals, bouncing his legs impatiently. "Oh, Lutz did? Aren't they really old? Yeah, good cell phones are really expensive."

"Come on!" Oliver spat, and darted in the direction of the main road. He glanced around, momentarily lost in the unfamiliar location, until he caught a pub on the corner. Bella had spoken of her grandson visiting there sometime too many, and realized the bakery was a few blocks from his location. He turned the opposite way, toward the House. The other boys easily overtook his limp strides, having longer legs, and were not winded from a draining spell. "I hate running," he hissed through his clenched teeth. Siegmund tossed a look of sympathy over his shoulder.

"What could possibly so important that you had to interrupt my story to those pretty ladies?" Luciano snarled, stomping after the trio once they managed to mingle in the dining hall. Lutz and Kuro followed more quietly, their faces grave from the disaster that Allen must have hinted was to coming. "They were enjoying my recollection when I shared a plate of spaghetti with a kitty!"

"Quickly," Oliver rasped, his throat still a desert from running. "We do not have a lot of time."

"Allen-san's room?" Kuro said questionably. "Of all places, please tell me why we are meeting there?"

Luciano agreed with, "I don't want to get dirty man musk in my nostrils!"

"Everyone else is there already," Oliver snapped. Besides, he liked that man musk. They grumbled, but followed him without further complaint. Even Flavio was there, watching Allen pace around his own bedroom, and trip on a shirt that was carelessly tossed on the floor.

"All y'all are here!"

"Unfortunately," Luciano glanced to the beds, but decided to stay on his feet. "What is this about? I heard that gang of brutes are acting up again."

"They have been," Allen retorted. "You think it was bad an' annoyin' before, but its gon' to get worse! Ollie an' I think they're plannin' somethin' big!"

"You think?" The other brunet raised his eyebrows. "Are you two collaborating with one another like suspicious old ladies against the neighbor's daughter?" Lutz and Kuro exchanged a half amused, half bewildered looks. Flavio must have been chuckling at old memories.

"Do you wanna hear what's happenin' or what?"

Luciano waved his hands in the air. "Oh, shame on me. Carry on."

" _Anyway_ , Ollie an' I were at the bakery, an' two of Crookednose's pals stopped by to bother us."

"That's weird," Lutz grumbled. "Remember those three guys that stopped us on the way to the gelato shop? They were a part of his group, too."

"How can I forget?" Luciano said, "It was not even two hours ago, and they managed to make my head hurt with their stupid words! I didn't even get my gelato!"

Oliver glanced to Matt and Siegmund. "Did you two have a run-in with any of them?"

"Not at all." Matt grimaced. "Actually, some of them were hanging around the park for a little bit before suddenly leaving. Other than their staring problems, neither of them bothered us."

"How many were there?"

"Just two."

Allen made a noise of thought. "There were two fellas at the bakery."

Luciano piped up, "Three of them to the gelato shop."

Flavio propped against a nearby wall, also glancing to the unmade cots. "I just stayed here. All of those snot heads left almost as soon as all of you did."

"They were following us!" His brother gasped. He faltered to glance at everyone with a confused expression. "Why would do they do that?"

"It is rather weird," Kuro muttered, clamping a hand on his own chin. "Are they wanting to intimidate us?"

"Oh, they're intimidatin' all right!" Allen exclaimed. "Just 'fore they left to creep somewhere else, one of the fellas dropped a huge wad o' cash on the ground."

Matt seemed interested. "Did you take it?"

"Naw, the other guy noticed, an' they got it back. Matt, this was several hundred bucks! So I got Ollie, an' we followed 'em! You know that spooky part o' town? Yeah," he continued, even without answers. "They went into this ol' shop, an' eventually, this grown up dude all decked out in a fancy suit came in wit' a briefcase. They were all whisperin' an' collaberatin' wit' one another-"

"There were firearms in the case," Oliver announced. "No matter what they are going to do with them, it cannot be good."

Lutz blurted, "What happened then?"

"We got outa there!" Allen snorted, "We weren't gonna give 'em an excuse to use 'em!"

Luciano clamped his hands on both sides of his head. "How long ago was this?!"

"Uh...you see, we just came from there, but you guys were all scattered 'round town, so we had to get everybody here in one place..."

The room fell silent with baited breath. A distant thump followed by a chorus of whoops made all the occupants simultaneously jump, and scramble into the next room, a bathroom, to crowd around a small window facing the front lawn. The other group was filling into the yard, waving and gesturing to one another as the gang split into three smaller collections.

"What are they doing?" Kuro seethed. "Do they honestly expect to shoot us, with so many other children and Warden-san here?"

Matt growled, "Guns do not necessary mean for killing. They can be used for threatening, or hitting non-fatal areas."

His brother proclaimed, That's what I said!"

"For what?" Luciano yanked on his hair, earning a worried look from his sibling. "They started this, but why? What is the real reason for disrupting the little peace we managed to have?"

Oliver asked himself the same questions. "They followed us around to be snoopy, perhaps, but this, with these dangerous weapons, seems a tad overboard for laughing and generally being happy."

"It's an overreaction," Matt agreed. He glanced behind himself as Luciano made strange, high pitched noises of panic. "They'll grab any excuse to climb to the top. It's the typical fight for power. The more people are afraid of them, the more people will do what they say."

"Fuck no!" Allen spat.

"Um, hello!" Oliver called, "They are children! Miss Warden owns the place, not us, and certainly not them."

Matt gave him a nearly disgusted look, but before he could say anything scathing, Allen put a hand on the baker's shoulder. "He wasn't raised like the rest o' us. He didn't need to worry 'bout all this shit."

"Lucky," Flavio mumbled. Oliver glanced to the floorboards, not feeling lucky to grow up the way he did. Kuro pushed away from the window, and squeezed by everyone for the bedroom door. "Where are you going?!"

"My room is at the end of the hall. I need something for myself while they are still outside."

"I think..." Luciano began shakily, "if we stay inside, we will be fine. There are too may witnesses indoors. However, if you step outside, it's a warzone."

Lutz almost whined, "We have to be cooped in here?"

"I have a job," reminded Oliver. "I need to have outdoor access."

"Then have your legs blown off!" Luciano tossed his hands in the air. "I am not getting this far in my life to get jumped by stupid-" Another bout of foreign slurs. Flavio understood what he rambled about, and looked like he need to pray to something.

"All right, all right!" Allen said, "Panickin' ain't gonna solve anythin'."

Lutz asked, "What do we do then?" He cranked his head back when Luciano almost hit in the face with his crazed gestures.

"We already got that thing with not goin' out by ourselves, an' carryin' a form of protection wit' you at all times."

"Yet they are following us. What is going to stop them now, with their new toys, from confronting a group of us?"

"All of those were defensive tactics," Kuro's voice drifted from the doorway. He held a long sheath that was more than half his height. "This will not let up until we go on the offensive and teach them that we will not tolerate being stepped on."

Lutz tossed a glance to the window. "It looks like they are waiting out there for one of us to step outside." The middle group outside was left to their own devices, casually leaning against the sparse trees. They easily chatted with one another, but Oliver caught their heads lift to their pane every now and again. One of them kept staring, so he shrunk away from the glass. "They have the weapons now, and will be more unafraid as ever to confront us."

Luciano took a loud, shaky breath before putting his hands to his mouth. "What we need to do...we must not kill them, _si, si,_ but make sure they don't kill or hurt any of us."

Allen snapped his fingers in realization. "We can take their stuff! They won't be able to do much without their guns, blades, an' shit."

"I am not certain they are throwing defecation at us, Allen-san."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes," Luciano sniggled, his eyes narrowing in delight. "We can pawn off their weapons for good money."

Flavio shrugged. "Besides, if they get more, we can do it again. More for you, _si_?"

"Hey, yeah!" Allen bounced on his toes. "I like the sound o' that."

Luciano jerked a thumb to the window, "We need to find out their formation and numbers, first. These idiots set themselves up for a visual disadvantage."

Matt leaned forward to peer through the smeared glass. "I'm not sure. What if they did that on purpose-"

"Count off!" Luciano claimed, "There are seven of us!"

"Eight. You forgot Ollie."

"I did not! He is not going out there and fighting."

"I am not?" Oliver echoed, sort of relieved.

"Of course. You're the medic person. You have to be kept safe."

"Besides," Flavio tittered, "Can you really fight?"

One of the baker's grand eyebrows twitched. "I am sure I can defend myself when it is necessary."

Luciano swished a palm at his brother. "Let's make sure it does not become necessary. First, we will split into groups, scouting _inside_ of the House. They can see us, too, if you stand in front of the windows, so be careful! The last thing we need is shards in the juglar."

"Be careful around Warden-san as well. Keep your weapons concealed, and act normal, or try to, around her."

"What Kuro said!" Luciano declared, "We will meet in the downstairs lounge. Lutz, Flavi, you're with me. Siegmund, Oliver, and Allen. Kuro and Matt," he gestured to his assigned groups. Siegmund began signing, "Don't complain about it, because I am not going to listen."

The mute was unimpressed, blankly staring after Luciano leaving the room. His brother and Flavio shrugged, and followed after him after a sharp word of command. Kuro begrudgingly scooted closer to Matt, and affixed his sheath to his back, so it should not drag on the floor. Allen clamped a hand on Siegmund's shoulder, and pointed a thumb to the doorway. Oliver wished the other boys luck, earning bewildered glances.

"You be careful, too," Matt rasped, glanced between Allen and Siegmund. "Both of you. Al, you still have it?"

"Have what?" Allen grunted. His hand patted his jacket, hitting something in the inner breast pocket. "Oh! Yeah!"

"Emergency only, Allen. You have something else to fight with, right?"

"Sure, sure. I'll find somethin'."

Oliver said, "The others are not waiting for us."

Once in the hall, Kuro pointed down the corridor. "We will look out of the balcony."

"Cool," Allen bobbed his head. "We'll look out windows."

Pass Oliver's room, at the end of the hall, the window had a tree in front of it. The sharp branches obstructed any view of the side yard. "Great," the baker remarked. "I hope those blokes are not lingering around here. We should try the other window."

Siegmund made a surprisingly loud sigh. Oliver glanced at him, but the mute avoided his gaze. The window on the other end of the hall was equally dirty, and most likely never washed. Allen pointed a fingertip to the glass. "Over there." A small group of Crookednose's buddies were only visible when the baker pressed behind the other teen at the furthest edge of the pane. "They're close to the right most dinin' hall window. Luciano's gang got a better vantage point than this."

Oliver rose to his tip toes to glare over Allen's shoulder, and grumbled like an old man, "They really have nothing better to do with themselves."

Siegmund cleared his throat, breaking their plotting from the window. Kuro and Matt emerged from the balcony hallway, but their agitated expressions portended nothing from the usual. The blond declared, "We should get to the others."


	27. Chapter 26

In the far lounge down the secluded hall from the dining room, Luciano announced, "One group to the right of the dining hall. The second one is in front of the main entrance. We did not see the third group."

Kuro stepped in, "A group of boys were a little ways underneath the balcony."

Lutz hummed thoughtfully. "They are all within sight of at least one of the other groups."

"If one of them is confronted, the others can easily join."

Luciano hissed, "They may be smarter than we first thought."

"Not only that," Matt grunted, "but they outnumber us when they are together. If they are separate, no. All of us can easily overwhelm a group."

Allen held his hands up. "I got somethin'! If we do two groups at once, 'stead of just one, or all three, one of the groups will have to split, or at least get into confusion at which one to help!"

"Wow!" Luciano exclaimed. "Everyone is showing their bright side today!"

"Haw, haw, well, I do try."

Flavio clapped to regain track of the subject. "Does everyone know where the knock out point is, or how to disable somebody?"

"The back of the heel is an excellent spot for blades," Kuro put in, rolling his shoulders, and the sheath against his back moved, too. "The behind of the neck, right here, is another good area."

Allen pointed to the side of his forehead. "I like puttin' it right here!"

"Yes," Luciano lightly sniggled. "We are not killing them, so watch how hard you hit them. We don't want the cops in our faces."

"Right! Which groups we gettin' first?"

"The balcony," Matt said at the same time as Luciano's "The dining hall."

"Good!" Allen pumped a fist. "Leave the middle group last."

"It's decided!" Luciano claimed. "Once we gather our own weapons, we'll meet with our respective groups. Oh, Kuro, I want you with me this time, and Matt can be with Allen and Siegmund." They did not complain this time, so the Italian jerked his chin to the last teen. "Oliver, you stay."

"I know, I know."

The team glided up the steps once more, splitting to their bedrooms to gather supplies. Allen nudged Oliver, speaking lowly so only he could hear, "Um, Ollie, you wouldn't happen to have anythin' to whack people wit', right?"

"You think I would have something like that in my possession?"

"Shucks, Ollie, wit' you? Who knows! What 'bout that bat you used to almost bash my skull in?"

"That is at Bella's." Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, resting a hand on his door knob. "All the way across town."

"Shit!"

Oliver considered the sigil on his floor, and the one in the bakery's back room. "Actually, there is a way we can get there very quickly."

"Without meetin' those fellas out there?" Allen said, doubtful.

"Come inside my room."

"Wait, so you do got it-"

Oliver grabbed the other teen's hand, and towed him inside. With a suspicious glance around the hall, he quietly closed the door, and hurried to the large symbol. "Hush up, and get over here."

Allen glanced down, and took a step back from the outer edge. "Whoa, what-"

"Are you going to the bakery with me, or not?"

"I don't get it-"

"We are pressed for time, Allen. Please, this is not the appropriate moment to ask questions."

"Um...all right, I guess. What do I do?"

"Get over here, and do not ruin the sketch."

Dramatically lifting his legs, Allen stepped over the lines, until he was in the inner circle with Oliver. "What's this do-" The baker slugged an arm over his shoulder, and around his neck, to bring him down for an intense kiss. He did not allow room or breath to ask questions, but his forceful efforts were not necessary.

"Holy shit," Allen laughed breathlessly, but gasped as he stumbled backward. "Holy shit." He caught himself on a wall, staring wide eyed at the suddenly bright environment. "What...Are we at the bakery?!"

Oliver pressed his finger tips to his own lips, more curious rather than dizzy. "Transference of energy. How useful, it does really work. I will need to tell Lila about this."

Allen was groping the rear foyer's wall. "Is this fer real?"

"You wanted the bat, right?" Oliver pointed to a corner next to him. "It is right there." Anabella must have returned it to its usual spot.

The other boy stared at it, bewildered, but grabbed it anyway. He tapped the thick end against his palm a few times, grinning from the sound and feel of smooth wood. "This feels right, you know?"

"What, that you potentially will be smashing other boy's skulls in with the bat?"

After a moment of consideration, Allen cracked a grin and shrugged. "Yeah! It's a nice weapon!"

"Better than playing sports with it, I suppose!" Oliver crept closer. "We should get back to the others."

"What 'bout Bella? Do y'think she's still sleepin'?"

"We cannot linger until she wakes up," the baker urged the other teen to the middle of the circle. "I have to return her vehicle after this whole ordeal is finished, so I will check on her then."

"Me, too!" Allen offered, and snuck an arm behind Oliver's back to crush their chests together. "You gon' do more of that magic voodoo stuff?"

Oliver smiled and nodded. This time, he took his own strain, since Allen need his energy for the up and coming confrontation. When they snapped back to his own room, the baker slipped from the other boy's grip, and flopped onto his bed.

"Shucks, Ollie, you all right?"

"It is not easy...as it looks."

"Okay, I guess," Allen stepped away from the chalk sigil with a disturbed expression. "I ain't goin' worry 'bout it now, but when we're done..."

"I will try answering your questions as best as I can. Now," Oliver swished the hand that was not pressed to his forehead. "You need to go, and do not do anything stupid!"

"You always say that!"

"I will get mad if you are hurt!"

"At me?!"

Oliver nodded.

"Oh, boy."

"Hey!" Several, strong knocks resonated on the door. Matt's gruff voice barked, "We have things to do, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, I know!" Allen threw back just as darkly, and threw open the door.

"Then let's go, beef brains," Matt was cut off with the wood slamming against its frame. As soon as their heavy feet faded away, Oliver sprung from his bed, and stumbled to the bathroom. Snatching a bath towel, and wetting it in the sink, he returned to the sigil to begin scrubbing it from his floorboards.

He brushed the dry half of the towel to suck up most of the moisture from the wood before replacing the old circle with a new one. Instead of sharp lines of intertwining branches, Oliver drew much more gentler slopes and loops of a healing insignia. It was always better to be safe than sorry. Something was screaming at him to draw it, so he listened. In case his friends returned all right, he slid his top blanket from his bed, and laid it over the design, to cover it and any questions the boys might ask about the strange symbol. A duvet on the floor was less odd than a magic circle.

Of course, Allen had questions. It was too haste of a situation for Oliver to pretend to be normal when he could help his friends with his gift. He hoped it was a gift, and did not frighten the other teen away. With all the things he had gone through, surely magic would not be his breaking point! Oliver lifted a corner of the blanket to peek if it disturbed the settlement of chalk. He jumped and dropped the cover back into place as a muffled bang resonated along the House's walls. "What in the world-?"

Another thump shook the wood, and he swore he heard Miss Warden snapping at whoever was causing the disturbance. Oliver sprung to his feet, watching his door as his hands clenched and unclenched. Those were sounds he had never heard of before, and wondered what could possibly made them. He was not left to think, however, as many feet and clamoring voices climbed the stairs, and raided the hall.

Someone slammed against the door, dismayed it was locked. "Oliver!" A gruff voice called at his paranoia with the lock. "It's us, let us in."

Oliver hurried to the door, and as soon as the lock clicked, it flew open. He was knocked back from the force put upon it, stumbling a few steps, but regained his posture with an agitated huff. Lutz came forth, walking backwards, as his hands were cusped beneath his brother's shoulders. "Siegmund?!" The baker gasped. Matt carried his legs, and they hauled him on Oliver's bed.

Flavio peeked in from the hall with the usual hint of disgust on his face. Luciano burst in the room with various firearms and metal containers. "They ganked him!"

Kuro followed more quietly, with more weapons, but was almost trampled by Allen, whose bat sported a frightening splatter of scarlet. "Stupid, sons of bitches! We tried makin' it easy on 'em, but they love makin' things harder fer all of us-"

"Help him!" Lutz cried, his tone more of a plea than a demand. Siegmund hissed, and wreathed on Oliver's bare mattress. The baker scurried to the bed, and lifted the pale hands that were clutching on his jacket, already knowing what happened from the smears of fresh red between his fingers, and his white garment seeping with the color. He lifted the mute's shirt, and a mess of blood leaked from a heavy gash near the side of his abdomen. Oliver pressed Siegmund's shirt to the mess so it would not spill on his cot. The sigil was going to be put to use.

"Matt says it won't kill him," Lutz hovered too close to Oliver when the baker did not make movement to stitch his brother up. "You will need to stitch him up like you did to my arm-"

"It will kill him if he doesn't get medical attention!" Matt spat, and the mute wheezed, his lips moving in speech, but no words came out.

"Out!" Oliver snapped. Everyone jumped. "All of you out, now!"

"But-" Lutz's voice quivered. Luciano and Kuro shot to their feet from sorting and emptying the firearms to clamp on his shoulders.

"Now, Lutz," the Italian hissed.

"Don't worry," Allen assured. "Ollie knows what he's doin'." He glanced to Oliver, as if for reassurance, but the baker only fretted over Siegmund.

As soon as the door closed, he sighed, "Oh, good, they are gone." Oliver turned from the bed, abandoning the other teen. Siegmund flopped his head to the side, his breaths coming out as hisses between his clenched teeth. His silver eyebrows furrowed as the other teen flipped the blanket from the floor, exposing a strange chalk drawing. "Honestly, do they think I could use a needle and thread to a puncture wound like yours?" He drew up to the bed, and Siegmund flinched.

Oliver grabbed Siegmund's shoulders, and pulled him from his cot. The mute's legs jerked as the mattress vanished beneath him, and with a heavy heave, his legs hit the floor. His eyes widened, and his mouth popped open with a silent wail. A weak, drawn out gasp blew from his lungs as his body was pulled into the middle of the circle.

"Hush," Oliver patted his forehead, but Siegmund only twitched, his mouth gaping like a fish out of the water. "I did not mean to be so rough, but this is urgent. I have to ask you to keep quiet of what is going to happen between us." He settled above Siegmund's head, inside a circle surrounded by a larger one that swooped around the other boy. He closed his eyes, and began chanting.

Another thrash, and Siegmund sharply inhaled, his head turning side to side as the lines around his body began to shift and glow. His struggles subsided with his pain. The low words gave way to curiosity from the white particles swirling and dancing around the wooden floor. Oliver gasped from a sharp sensation in his stomach, but caught himself with his own arm before he would fall onto the other teen. His chanting grew more panicked with hurt as the wounds in Siegmund's stomach reflected against his own. Yet he preserveered, allowing his patient to reach a lull of peace.

Oliver slurred, and wrapped his arms around his torso. Siegmund twitched again as he flopped to the ground, and picked up his head from the noise. The mute slowly pushed himself from the floor, placing a hand experimentally on his stomach. Another groan sounded behind him, so he twisted around, and pushed Oliver to flip him upright.

"Thanks," Oliver wheezed, prodding his side, but the pain was only in his mind. Despite the fatigue, he had felt a certain pride swell in his chest that he never felt before, and mustered a content, "Everything is all right."

Siegmund nodded eagerly, even if it was not a question. He rose to his knees, and cupped the baker's back to help him stand, too.

"Woo, okay. Show off," Oliver grumbled. The other teen held his hands out as he wavered from a hiss of dizziness. "I will be fine. Just a sudden case of nausea." With a nod, Siegmund stepped away to give him space. "That is still a lot of blood. We need to get it cleaned up."

He followed Oliver into the bathroom, where they soaked hand towels, and scrubbed their bloody fingers. Siegmund shrugged off his jacket, and eyed the red trails drying on his pale stomach. Once he scrubbed at them, he prodded the light divot from the puncture wound.

"It is not completely healed," Oliver said, averting his gaze. "I know you are much better than before, but I do not want you to cartwheel down the hall, and perform a double flip out the window."

Siegmund stamped a foot on the ground, as if all his plans were ruined. He cracked a bright smile, and nodded in understanding.

"We should meet the others now. They will be worried."

Oliver cracked his bedroom door open, peeking out into the hall. Their friends straightened from staring off distantly, all eyes on him as a smile ghosted his features. He pushed the door open all the way, revealing Siegmund raising his arms over his head. Everyone gasped, and flocked to him, bewildered, but glad, none the less, at his miraculous recovery.

"You're all right!" Lutz announced, heartedly laughing as he slung his arms around his brother's shoulders.

"I..." Kuro shook his head. "I do not believe it. I thought he was..."

"What'd I tell you?!" Allen bounced over everyone's heads to catch sight of Oliver. "I told yous he knew what he was doin'! I told yous!"

Oliver yelped as his body slammed against him, wrapping him with strong arms and squeezing. "A-All right," he breathlessly protested. "Put me down."

"More o' that magic voodoo stuff?" Allen asked, low in his ear. Without a word, Oliver nodded.

The group broke into a collective whoop of surprise as Siegmund grabbed the flannel material of Matt's over shirt and attacked his face with over excited kisses. The blond could not find the audacity to push him away, but made sure he glared at everyone, baiting them to mention anything.

"Jeez!" Allen exclaimed. "What did y'do to him?!"

"It does not matter," Oliver tittered, and leaned against his side. "He is all right now. What about the others?"

Luciano turned to him with a disturbed expression. "Who? Crookednose's posse?"

"Someone had to stab Siegmund. What happened to him?"

"I shot him!" Allen announced, obviously. "We thought the middle group would split to the others, but nah, they all came after us, followin' the leader, I guess, an' Siggy couldn't call out fer us..."

Matt spoke up for his brother when everyone else frowned at the floorboards, "It would have been much worse if Allen didn't get him in the leg."

"Oh!" Oliver exclaimed. "I thought it was a death shot." He put a hand over his heart and sighed. "If somebody died, you know the police would be piling the gates."

"They ran off," Luciano murmured. A satisfied grin found his face. "They may come back, but they will know better next time."

Flavio glanced around the group. "Is anybody wondering how Siegmund is...oh, never mind. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't," Matt said. "Everyone is fine now, and we have the weapons."

"Not everyone is fine!" Oliver gasped, pulling away from the arm over his shoulders. "Look at you, Lutz! Why did you not tell me somebody cut your cheek?!"

Siegmund lifted his head from Matt's chest, looking to his brother in alarm. Lutz put a hand over the slice mark. "Oh, it is nothing, really-"

"You will not be saying that when it gets infected! I will get you a Band-Aid." Oliver whisked back into his bathroom, and rummaged through the cabinet behind the mirror. All the inhabitants had basic supplies, like Band-Aids, but would have to go to Miss Warden if there were more serious extremities.

Oliver trotted back to the blond, and peeled the wrapper off a large, square Band-Aid away to stick it to Lutz's face. Kuro clenched his jaw in a fierce struggle to not let any snickering escape. Luciano, however, lost to peels of light giggles, poorly disguised by his hand. Lutz groaned, "Shut up." His companions exchanged a look, and simultaneously punched his gut, further edged on by Flavio's chortles.

"Any _other_ misperhaps I need to know about?"

"No," Kuro blurted, and shrunk beside Lutz. "We have successfully acquired their weapons."

Oliver narrowed his eyes, but did not know what else he could do with a bruised wrist, based on the way the other teen was clutching onto it, but was still able to put it to use. If it did not get better in the following days, the baker would have to confront him about it. Luciano made a small huff of satisfaction. "Ve, I say this went very well! Tomorrow morning, we are taking those guns somewhere nice, and getting something good for our efforts."

Allen's arm took its preferable perch across Oliver's shoulders again squeezing him closer. "An' if those fellas think we won't do it again, they got another thing comin'!"

"Exactly!" Luciano agreed. "I know it's been a long day, so why not end it with gelato? Since our earlier visit was interrupted..."


	28. Chapter 27

"Ahh, come on! I'm not in the mood to serve a whole gang of kids ten minutes before closing!" The ice cream shop owner chewed the squad out instead of offering nice, cool, ice cream.

Luciano procured a hefty sum of money, and waved it back and forth. "What? Not even in the mood for paying customers?"

The man grumbled, "Well, usually, your kind struts in, expecting me to just give my shit away!"

"We don't want your shit. We want gelato. Are you going to make us some, or not?"

Another drawn out, "Ahh. What'd'ya want then, you rascals?"

The hoard of teens ambled down the town's walkways, cold desserts in hand, and smiles (or what could pass as smiles) on their faces. That day was most likely the last warm one for the remainder of the year, as time moved so fast, so it would be a great lost to not enjoy it. The ice cream was their victory treat.

Matt shook his head after Siegmund signed, or attempted to with one hand occupied. "No, I wouldn't go there. You don't know my brother."

"What?" Allen said at his summoning. Kuro hurried to keep up with their long legs, and tried to eat at the same time.

"Siegmund says there's no way you can eat all that."

Allen threw his head back, and cackled. A passerby swerved onto the shoulder of the road just to avoid them. Siegmund smirked, undaunted, and signed again. "What'd he say?"

"That includes the rest of his, too. If you don't finish the both of your sundaes, you will have to..." Matt furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Streak," Lutz put in with his own rumble of laughter. "Allen will have to streak through the dining hall during dinner time. That's when it will be the busiest."

Everyone's heads pivoted to Allen apprehensively eyeing Siegmund's ice cream. "Yeah, but when I eat all this, you gon' to have to do it! How 'bout tomorrow evenin'?"

Siegmund made a crude gesture. Matt translated, "He looks forward to it."

"You better!" Allen baited. His unoccupied hand brushed another. He assumed it was Oliver beside him, so he eagerly grabbed it. However, Oliver was on the other side of him, poorly stifling his laughter as Kuro's face grew flushed and horrified at the same time. The black haired boy ripped his arm away, exclaiming in his mother tongue, and hustled to Lutz's and Luciano's side. When Allen loudly laughed at his own mistake, he threw a glare over his shoulder. The baker offered his palm, which the other teen wanted in the first place.

Lutz started to snicker, catching on what happened from Kuro's embarrassment. The deep laughter built up higher as the other teen's ears grew redder. "Shut up," Kuro warned. His friend did not quiet, so he shoved him. Although Kuro was certainly smaller, the sudden tackle surprised the blond, who stumbled to the side. Allen ran into him, shocked by the attack, too.

"Whoa, little guy-" Lutz twisted around to see what jammed into his back, ultimately knocking the plastic container of ice cream and fruit from Allen's hand.

"No!" Allen screeched, breaking from Oliver, and feebly scrambled for his dessert. The bowl bounced off his arm, and splattered to the sidewalk. "No!" He cried again, falling to his knees before the mess.

Everyone stopped and turned from the sound of plastic clattering against concrete. Siegmund was the first to react, doubling over in laughter, and waved his own bowl at his brother so he would not drop his, too. He even pointed at Allen, trying to signal, but failed miserably, as he had to clutch onto his stomach from laughing too hard.

Oliver started to giggle as well, earning a betrayed look from Allen. "No, no!" The other teen spat, jabbing a finger at the melting mess. "That doesn't count! Lutz made me drop it!"

"I did not make you do anything."

Luciano sang, "Someone is going for a breezy run!" Kuro seemed pleased with the outcome. He popped a spoon full of ice cream in his mouth to prevent smiling stupidly.

"It doesn't count!" Allen tried again. He picked up the bowl, salvaging some gelato that did not spill onto the walk way.

"Not unless you eat that, too," Lutz pointed to the ice cream left on the ground. "That's more than half of the bowl you left on the sidewalk. Unless you plan on eating it, you have to own up to the challenge."

"How 'bout you streak?!" Allen barked. "You knocked my ice cream out o' my hands!"

"You let your own ice cream get knocked out of your hands."

"You were in the way!"

"You could have stepped around," Lutz easily replied.

"I could not!"

"Streak!" Luciano cheered. "Streak, streak, streak!" His brother nodded in tune to his chanting.

Matt asked, "You are going to back out of a bet? You lost. Own up to it."

"I..." Allen glanced at all the pairs of eyes boring into his. "I'll do it! I ain't no lame loser!"

"Good," Luciano said, so cheekily. "Tomorrow, after we drop off those guns. I'm sure that pawn shop will give us something worth more than college text books."

Across the street, the fence started to run along side the group. "We are here," Kuro announced. "Will any of those boys be around?"

Lutz flicked the front latch up, and shoved the gate open. "That would not be a wise decision on their part."

Luciano snorted, "It's time for bed, not time to lurk in bushes and plot revenge."

Several stragglers were still in the yard. Even the kids that were not involved moved away from the large group like dogs with their tails between their legs. Allen gaffed, "Look at 'em! I can see the lumps on their hands from where I whacked 'em!"

"Oh," Kuro piped up, "Allen-san can suddenly see in the dark."

"Huh-huh, yeah," the other teen dug the back of his head with his nails.

Miss Warden eyed the group suspiciously, but did not say anything verbally. She had said she tended to leave the inhabitants to solve their own problems, after all. Luciano stopped the gang at the intersection upstairs. "We did good today! It's nice for everyone to know what they're doing together. We have nothing to fear from those idiots."

"Wow," Allen asked, "are you complimentin' us?" Lutz and Kuro glared at him, but he remained blind to their sour looks.

If Luciano understood the underlining tone, he did not allow it to bother him. "Would you like to keep a journal?"

Flavio broke out in a wide yawn, interrupting his brother. "I am going to get some beauty sleep now. Looks like everyone else needs it, too. We're still not done with this shit."

Matt watched Luciano turn to his bedroom. "I don't expect those guys to let this drop so easily."

"We aren't either," Flavio reminded him, "but they should think twice about retaliating."

"You expect 'em to think?!" Allen chortled. Matt gave him a blank look. "Whatever, man. I'm not dealin' wit' 'em anymore tonight."

Lutz and Kuro left quietly as soon as Luciano departed from the group. Flavio was eager to follow suit, leaving Matt to mumble, "Well, yeah...bed now." He jerked his chin in the direction of his bedroom, and Siegmund nonchalantly crept after him, leaving the other duo alone in the hall.

"Huh," Allen scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "You...you did that, right?"

"No, Allen. Siegmund had so much willpower, he sealed his wound with the power of friendship."

"It's magic voodoo stuff!"

"I know," Oliver said. "I have done it to heal Siegmund. He would have died if I didn't."

"How, though? I though magic was all illusions, perspectives an' shit."

"Not this kind. It comes from the spirit. I draw symbols of chalk to focus and amplify the effects." Oliver pressed closer, whispering excitedly, "Would you like to see how?"

Allen's eyes widened. "You...are you askin' me if I want to be a guinea pig to voodoo magic?!"

"N-not a guinea pig!" Oliver bristled. "I would never hurt you on purpose! I cannot anyway. The type of magic I use is for goodwill."

"I dunno, Ollie. That seems a little..."

"Nothing will happen if you just look at it." The baker insisted almost desperately, "Besides, I am going to scrub it off my floor, since I do not need it anymore."

"Hah, you rhymed," Allen let out a little chuckle, and shrugged. "Fine, I guess, since you want me in your bedroom that badly."

"Y-you were asking about it!"

Allen poked one of Oliver's inflamed cheeks. "Sure, babe. I don't wanna ruin my bro's lil' sleepover, anyway." He followed the other teen down the hall. "I'm just gonna crash on your floor or somethin'."

"That will not be necessary."

"What'd'ya mean?"

"It means what I said," Oliver jammed his key into its proper slot. "You will have a sore back if you sleep on the floor. Besides, it is getting cold again, and you can get sick if you do not have covers."

"Babe-"

"It is not like I take up that much room, anyway-"

Allen grabbed his shoulders to spin Oliver around, and roughly kissed him. The other boy tensed for a moment, and just as he eased against him, he pulled away to speak coherently, "You were babblin' again."

"Pardon me for worrying," Oliver grumbled, standing on his toes for more.

"But that's the thing, Ollie!" Allen tipped his head back so he could be heard. "Matt an' I had to do that on a nightly basis! We're used to it."

Oliver pinched Allen's jacket collar and offered, "You could get unused to it."

The smile the other cracked made his stomach clench. "Yeah! Maybe I could..."

A door opened down the hall, and someone peeked out, scowling at their embrace. "Hey. Hey! Knock that off!" The pair managed to pull their faces from one another to look at Kuro in surprise. He continued, "Do that somewhere else."

"We'll be quiet," Allen promised.

"No, you two are still going to be out here, and it will bother me."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "That much?"

Kuro nodded.

"Uh...let's just get to bed. It's gettin' late," Allen suggested. With an odd glance to the teen down the hall, he pushed open Oliver's bedroom door, and they awkwardly shuffled inside. The hinges squeaked unnecessarily loud, and Kuro's door only shut after his did.

Oliver dug around in his dresser for night clothes to distract himself from the hot eyes on his back. "Can you put my blanket back on my mattress? The...thing is underneath it."

"The thing? Oh," Allen stared at the large circle for a tense moment before tossing the cover on the mattress, and kneeling to drag a finger through the chalk. "Huh. It doesn't do anything. This is what you used to...work on Siegmund?"

"The same thing. It is a healing insignia." Oliver shoved his clothes onto his dresser, hurried to the middle of the symbol, and settled in the smallest circle. "The caster goes here, while the injured will lay along the length of this other loop, and once they begin chanting the spell, the healing begins."

"Um...okay. That's cool, I guess," Allen stood up to wipe the powder on his pants. Oliver drew his legs to his chest, opting to glare at the drawing. "Are we gon' get ready for bed, or what?"

"I need to clean this up, first."

"I'll help!" Allen offered. "It'll get done faster."

Oliver would never understand the other boy. First he is a spooked by his magic, and now he is eager to clean up after it? "A-all right. Let me get some hand towels." After the large sigil was dutifully scrubbed away, he rose to his feet, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead. "Can you go out in the hallway for a moment?"

Allen surrendered his white infested cloth. "How come?" His eyes widened. "Are you kickin' me out?"

"What? No! I have to get dressed!"

"So?"

"Well," Oliver fiddled with the damp rags as he mumbled, "I usually do not have company when I am changing."

"Well, I usually don't stare at people changin'," Allen said in the same tone. He crossed his arms, and faced the opposite wall. "I'll turn 'round. See?"

"But...You better not look!"

Allen groaned, slapping his hands over his eyes. "Can't you use the bathroom?"

"I did not think of that." Oliver admitted. He went for the door, dropping the cloths in a dirty wash pile, but the light underneath the door suddenly flicked on. He automatically backed away when he remembered who was on the other side. "Oh dear, Crookednose is in there."

"That's shitty." Allen snorted, "You gotta sleep in the next room as him?"

A rancid retching sound broke through the wood. Oliver's nose crinkled as he scooted further back. "I have to listen to his frequent stomach pains, too."

"Huh, that's so weird. He's one of the biggest assholes in this place, yet he does that. It makes me wanna feel bad."

"Do not look!" Oliver reminded.

"Ugh! What's the big deal anyway?!" Allen straightened his glare on the other wall. "We got the same thing!" He gasped. "Unless, you're actually a chick the whole time!" The baker's trousers hit the floor, and the other boy made a noise of thought. "That wouldn't be so bad. Ladies are fine, too-"

Oliver squawked, "Do I look like I'm a woman?" He threw his arms around his bare torso when his company turned toward him. "Hey, I told you not to look!"

"You asked me if you look like a lady or not! I was gon' answer your question!"

"Well, turn around!"

Allen did, but unfortunately, it was facing Oliver, who gasped, and scrambled for his night shirt. "Jeez, what's up wit' that? Were you peeped on when you were a little kid, or what?"

"Was I what?!" The baker fumbled with the smooth fabric when one arm proved to be inside out.

"Did anybody creep on you when you were younger, or anythin'? I know some kids that got touched in some ways, so if that's what's up, it ain't wrong to feel bad 'bout it-"

"No, I was not touched like that." As the other teen crept closer, Oliver yanked his bed shirt closed before he could button it. "Did I not say-"

"You got scars? I got scars! D'you wanna see 'em?"

"P-put your shirt down!"

"They suck gettin' 'em, but afterwards, you got a cool story to tell!"

Oliver clenched the fabric closer, almost backing away as Allen approached, but did not want to hover by the bathroom, where he swore the pained sounds of sickness were still coming through. A nervous giggle escaped the best of him, "Quit it."

"You got some magic tattoos to summon stuff out of mid-air! Right? Is that it?" Allen held his arms out, waiting for an answer, but Oliver just shook his head again. He groaned with a heavy sigh, troubling himself to even throw his head back in a gesture of annoyance. Oliver sniggled again from the reaction, and quickly lowered his hands to work up his shirt buttons. "Fine," the other boy said, setting his gaze from the ceiling, "I'm just gon' have to find out myself."

"What?" Oliver jumped when his company lunged forward and grabbed for his shirt. "Hey, no!"

"Hey, yeah!"

"I just got those buttoned!"

"Stop squirmin'!"

"Stop grabbing me- ha-ha!"

"I ain't seein' anythin' up wit' you! Why you freakin' out?!"

A hard thump knocked the door from the other side. Both occupants jumped, gawking at the wood. However, there was no more reprimanding. They huddled closer to one another, shushing from shared embarrassment. Oliver began fiddling with his buttons again, and whispered, "I have trouble putting on weight."

"Is that it?!" Allen quietly exclaimed while he worked to undo his fastenings.

Oliver blinked in surprise from the grabby fingers against his stomach. "Isn't that a bad thing?" His father had always told him to bulk up, so he would grow big and strong. Since he never did, that must have meant he was neither, which was the worse case scenario. At least, that was what he had believed until Allen's shoulders rose with a quick shrug.

"I dunno. Matt says I eat all the time. I guess you got trouble puttin' on weight, and I got trouble keepin' it off!"

Brightening about the matter, Oliver jived, "You would think I would be well off, being around all those sweets!"

Allen seemed to enjoy that, too, letting off a deep giggle. The hand playing with the last of his buttons trailed underneath one of Oliver's arms, and around his back. "Come here," he coaxed the other into a tight hug to run his palms up and down the dips of his spine. " _Mm,_ that's nice."

Oliver pressed his face against a leather clad shoulder, and gripped the material in encouragement at the zings running across his skin. Despite the garment being a size too big for Allen's lanky body, the constant heat radiating from him was enough for him to believe it was possible that if he pressed any closer to his company, he would (literally) melt into him. "I...I am a tad weird, Allen..."

"What, 'bout the voodoo stuff?" He felt Allen shrug against him. "Yeah, that may be a lil' weird, but if I think 'bout it, the fact that you can poof 'round town, an' miraculously heal Siggy...you're one o' a kind, Ollie. Bony or not." He gave Oliver's face a little nudge with his shoulder. "An' guess what?"

"How can I possibly guess what you are going to say?"

"Maybe when we grow up, we'll still like each other. You know, as men, 'stead of boys."

Oliver opened his eyes, able to listen to Allen take a sharp breath from his silence. He sniggled against his shoulder, assuring the other teen by squeezing his arm. "Gosh, I would hope so, too...dork."

"Shit, really?!"

Before Allen could get too excited, Oliver's neighbor let out another fretful cry.

"Oh, yuck." They eased from another with a distasteful glance to the paneling. "Y'know, out of context, you gotta feel bad fer him."

"We should move away from the door..." Oliver unwillingly pulled away from Allen's warm embrace to near his bed. "Do you have pajamas to change into? You should get them before you get too comfortable."

"I don't got any," Allen flopped on the foot of the mattress, and peeled off his sneakers. One of his socks had a hole in it, so his smallest toe peeked out, and wiggled to greet everybody. "No money to buy some, anyway. Not that I need 'em, since it aint' a big habit o' mine to sleep in beds."

"Still? Allen, you have been here almost a year now, if not more." Oliver could not imagine it, but he asked, "Are they uncomfortable for you?"

Allen wagged his head side to side, contemplating. "I said before, I ain't used to wakin' on up on a soft thing, an' without crazy people chasing me away. It's not the beds that are the deal, it's what happens after I'm in beds!"

Oliver scooted closer, and worryingly leaned against his shoulder. "What happens afterward?"

"Nothin' now, but it was so weird wakin' up on a soft thing an' without crazy people chasin' me an' Matt away."

"Why would they do that?!"

"Two rag tag kids lurkin' 'round? Who knows what they'd be up to. Could be sleepin', could be thievin'. They didn't know, and they didn't care. Eventually, we stopped carin', too." Allen twisted around after shrugging off his jacket, and slung it over the footboard. "So, we sleepin' or what?"

Oliver sighed happily at the prospect of rest. "Without your trousers, preferably."

"Whoa, you want me to take off my pants?"

"N-no! Just your trousers! It will be better for the both of us. Stop looking at me like that. I am not trying to be suggestive."

"You're the one implyin' suggestion." Allen leaped from the bed, and wiggled to kick off his jeans. Oliver growled unmenacingly, and threw himself underneath his covers. Before the other teen could peel a blanket back to join him, the baker snatched the sheets away, tucking himself in like a caterpillar cocooning himself. "Aw, come on!"

Oliver snuggled against his pillow, and let out a snooty noise instead of responding. When grabby hands nipped at whatever leftover blanket stuck out, he shifted and folded the cloth beneath himself, ignoring Allen's small pleas of, "Babe. Babe, come on." A heavy exhale made him open his eyes. He was about to pick up his head, and look over his shoulder, but he was suddenly squished into the mattress.

"What in the world?"

Allen wrapped his arms and legs around the boy posing as a bundle of blankets, and crowed, "This is fine, too."

"Oh, is it?" Oliver wiggled angrily, "I cannot move like this!"

"That's your fault fer hoggin' the blankets," Allen claimed, clutching closer to plant his lips on any exposed skin.

Like a frightened turtle, Oliver shrunk into the covers. "Stop that! Allen!" His uncontrolled giggles prompted the other teen to do anything but halt his attack. "Quit it!" He weakly warned as Allen grabbed any loose cloth, and tugged it away from him. One of his elbows were freed, and he jabbed his bedmate in the stomach.

"You quit it," Allen pinned the offending arm to its owner's side, and pulled the bed sheet from him. "Sharin' is carin'."

Oliver clasped the hand stealing his covers, twisting to get in his face. "I do not care." The other boy smiled, and kissed his nose, causing the both of them to falter to unstoppable laughter. The baker smacked his company in the chest several times as he used the opening to shimmy beneath the covers.

"Gotcha!" The other teen announced, wounding his arms and legs around Oliver, despite the small, unmeaningful protests.

Just when things quieted down, and Oliver closed his eyes to sleep, Allen started to rumble with more laughter. "What?"

"You should've seen us earlier, babe, wit' those dudes out there. To 'em, we came out o' nowhere, like, from the walls, an' we got 'em before the middle group even saw us."

Oliver made a weak noise of acknowledgement. He closed his eyes, but Allen kept talking, "We charged 'em all at once, it was great. They had no idea what they were doin', guns or not. Siegmund only got hit 'cause they suddenly piled on him. I guess they were in some sort o' panic, an' took whoever was closest. Like I said, he couldn't cry out fer us, an' I was the only one closest to him, an' the only thing I could do in that time was grab my gun, an' shoot the bastard that was jabbin' him in the leg..."

A rough hand grabbed Oliver's shoulder. "Ollie?"

"When people say they are going to bed, that entails sleeping, Allen."

"Aw, shit, but we hardly get all this time to just chit chat. Someone or somethin' always comes by an' bugs us."

Another nudge. Oliver lazily promised, "We will talk in the morning. Hush."

"Really?" Allen wreathed excitedly. With a noise of agreement, he gave Oliver a last squeeze before adjusting to less constriction. His contented sigh died into a worried grunt as the floorboard creaked. "What's that?" He pulled the cover up more. "Nuh-uh, I ain't the mood for ghost shit." Oliver was used to the sound of a nearby tree clattering against the side of the House, but his bedmate pressed closer with a low whine. "Ollie, did you leave behind some voodoo magic stuff floatin' around?"

Even if it was possible, Oliver was quickly falling asleep.


	29. Chapter 28

"Yoohoo! You have a visitor!"

Oliver scrunched up his face without opening his eyes. A light giggle drifted into the air while something soft tickled the tip of his nose. He tried to stretch, and curl up again, but a heavy weight pressed him into the bed, causing him to awaken in a much more warmer state than he had fallen asleep. He cracked open his eyes, sniffling from the dark red hair brushing his jaw. A small shape hovered above him, looking down from his forehead.

Oliver rasped, reaching up to rub the grit from his eyes, "What?"

"What'cha doing?" Lila chirped, too happy for the morning.

"Waking up," the boy grumbled, lifting the hand that was bent around Allen's back. He did a double take, leaning away to be positive it was Allen indeed who he was awakening beside. The other teen was certainly more quiet, since the ants that were crawling around in his pants and keeping him awake had left to plague some other kid.

"Woo, woo!" Lila snickered. "How often do you get a cute boy in your bed?"

"Stop it."

"What's wrong, grumpy gums? Didn't get any sleep last night?"

"I have gotten a fine night's sleep, thank you." Instead of lingering on the fairy's teasing, a shy smile reached Oliver's features as he brushed a hand through Allen's hair, not minding to be used as a pillow. Lila sat back with a disappointed huff. His fingers snuck between the strands, pressing against the other teen's scalp. Allen's breath hitched from a light snore. "Oh?" Oliver started, "Did you-"

Allen lunged off the bed, bellowing as he crashed onto the floor. "Fuck!" He roared, kicking the sheets that entangled his legs.

Oliver rose to a sitting position, gawking at the boy sprawled on his bedroom floor. "What is that about?"

Lila fluttered around his head, worrying for the both of them. Allen's eyes were unfocused, momentarily shocked from his sudden wake up call. "Uh, hey, babe?"

The other teen lifted his eyebrows. "Get off the floor, you dolt."

"Right, right," Allen hissed, and latched onto the edge of the bedframe to hoist himself back onto the mattress.

Oliver drifted toward him, and rubbed his back in moderate concern. "I did not mean to give you a fright."

"Huh?" Allen picked up his head when he rubbed his face with his palms. "Nah, you didn't."

"Nightmares?"

Allen hesitated, his gaze bouncing around the quiet bedroom. "I forget."

"You forgot."

"It happens!" After a moment of sitting still, Allen twisted to push Oliver back on the bed. Lila gasped, and shot from the baker's head.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Oliver spat at the other teen sprawling himself on top of him.

"Goin' back to bed."

"You are already awake!"

"Not for long," Allen mumbled against his nightshirt.

"Excuse me, but these are precious daylight hours I must use," Oliver made an effort to push Allen's shoulders, and sit up, but he was promptly overwhelmed by the other's body weight. Although he could not see her, Lila giggled. His eyebrows mashed together in an angry scowl, and he announced, "If you are not ready by the time Luciano stops by, he will not be happy."

"What's he gon' do? Get his meatballs steamed?" Allen lazily laughed at his joke. "He's probably still sleepin'."

Oliver turned his head to look around his bedroom. Lila hovered down to meet his gaze. "Do you need help?" Not knowing what a small being could do against a large lug like Allen, he stiffly nodded, for curiosity's sake.

Lila squealed in delight, and zipped after the dresser. Allen sighed with a small laugh at the sounds of Oliver' stomach grumbling against his cheek. The fairy plucked the bedroom key off of the drawers, and dropped it. The light metal clattered against the floorboards in a sharp but quiet collision. However, it was enough to get Allen to snap up, and throw his head side to side.

"What's that?!" The body beneath his shook with laughter, being the only one that could hear Lila blow a raspberry. He looked at Oliver with wide eyes. "Why you laughin'? What was that?"

"Who knows?" Oliver's eyes trailed away to pretend he was looking at something unseen. "Ghosts perhaps?"

"Ollie!" Allen gave the mattress on both of his sides a panicked thump. "Don't say that!"

With a heave, Lila shoved Oliver's wallet off the dresser. The leather slapped the floor, and she twirled in the air, elated by her doings. Allen flung himself away from his bedmate, and into the corner of the bed. Against the wall, he threw the covers over his body. Oliver rolled his eyes, "Like that would repel ghosts."

Allen burrowed into the blankets more, as if he was trying to squeeze in the space between the bed frame and the wall. When Oliver crawled over to the bundle, and placed a hand against the cloth, it tensed with a frightened squeak. "Nuh-uh! You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout! There ain't no ghosts gettin' in wit' me in here!"

"Why is that?" Oliver amused himself by circling an expanse of the blanket stretching over what he believed to be Allen's back.

Lila flew over to the bed, and settled amongst Oliver's air, exchanging mischievous giggles with the boy. Beneath the cover, Allen proclaimed, "This is some heroic defense! No ghost is gon' get pass it."

"Of course, dear."

The lump shifted a bit, and wiggled. "Ollie?" The blanket's voice lowered, "That's my butt you're rubbin' there. I don't know if that's what you're after-"

"Oh, goodness," Oliver jerked away from the large lump. "I thought that was your back under there."

"Haw, haw, nah, that was my butt."

"You said that." He swung his legs off the bed, and padded off to hunt for clean clothes while the other boy was distracted with hiding himself from something that was not in the room.

"I don't mind that you touched my butt, in case you were wonderin'."

"I was not."

"I mean, if you wanted to touch it again, you don't gotta ask."

"I will keep that in mind." Oliver said tersely, but since he had his back to his bedmate, he could smile all he wanted. He would not even let Lila's outburst of laughter stop his shine. Once the last piece of his assemble was around his neck, he hurried to the bed, and began tugging on the wrapping curled in the corner. "I have to make my bed."

"You don't got to do it."

"Get off, you idiot."

A head of static induced hair popped out. "Did you get rid o' the ghosts?"

"There are no ghosts, Allen."

"But somethin' fell down..."

"That was some of my voodoo magic."

"Oh."

A rapid knock interrupted any further conversation. Oliver huffed, "What did I say? Luciano is going to be ticked. Get your trousers on!"

"Oliver, we're here for the weapons!"

Oliver flapped a hand at the jeans littered on the floor, and the other boy dove for them. "Just a moment," he told Luciano, and swiped a hand through his hair while the other fixed his bowtie.

"Watch it!" Lila spat, and settled in the auburn strands when their owner snatched his invading fingers back. He glanced behind himself to Allen plucking his shoes from the floor, who thankfully managed to get his pants on. Oliver averted his gaze to the door, and twisted the knob. As always, Kuro and Lutz were flanking Luciano, who was waiting before the frame with his arms crossed in a non-threatening manner.

"Err...Hello."

"Hi," Luciano relayed just as awkwardly. The other two exchanged a quick glance. He gave his head a small shake, and opened his mouth to say something.

"Heya, folks," Allen propped his arm on the doorframe. "We leavin' now? I don't know 'bout you, but I'm ready to go. Come on in!"

"That good?" Luciano asked Oliver as they bustled by. The baker handed him a confused look. "Here we go. Lutz, the bag."

"Got it."

Oliver fretted over his messed blankets as they deposited the meager collection of firearms in a duffle bag. Luciano swung the sack toward Allen. "Carry this."

"Why me?"

Luciano's arm slacked, and the bottom of the bag clunked on the hard floor. "Because you got big manly muscles. Now, carry the bag."

"An' you don't?"

Lutz sighed heavily, and snatched the duffle bag, easily swinging it over his own shoulder. "I got it."

Allen and Luciano glared at one another. The Italian let a smile out to play, ticking, "Ve, I would not expect less of you, Lutz. Now, Allen."

"I'm comin'. See you, Ollie," the other boy called over his shoulder. Oliver stared after their sudden departure in disappointment. He had expected, and even wanted an exaggerated, drawn out smooch from Allen, while Luciano made frightened noises in the background, and the other two would look on with fatal discomfort.

"Are we going to the bakery today?" Lila's usual question broke his plotting.

Oliver gave himself a little shake to straighten out. "Of course. Nikolai will be there today, and I must see how Anabella is doing. To be honest, I never returned her car."

"I think you should do that."

The boy whisked out into the hall with an expensive jacket in tow that he had saved for a couple of weeks to buy. Alas, he could show it off, even if it was to the cold air. As he passed the intersection, he collided into a body that was smaller than his. Oliver gasped, flinching, and stepped away as the other teen let out a high yelp.

"Oh no! I didn't mean to-" The girl put a hand over her heart, sighing in relief. "Oliver, I didn't think it was you! You scared me!"

"I can tell! Who has you in a tizzy like that?"

"Um, with all those psychopaths running around with freaking guns outside? Who isn't a little freaked out?"

Oliver agreed with a smile, "You have no reason to worry anymore. They were stripped of their weapons, and will keep being stripped if they carry on those antics."

"Ollie, hush," Lila warned.

The girl's mouth formed an O, opening for her feeding of gossip. "Who did that?!"

"Some boys that were sick of them." Oliver swished a hand. "I simply heard it from the grapevine. Just to be safe, though, you still should not go outside by yourself."

"You, too." The girl punched his arm with surprising force behind her tiny fist. "You're dressed up nicely, and look at that coat!" She stepped forward to grope the material. "You got a date?"

Oliver grinned uneasily as Lila snickered. "No, I have work."

"That bad?"

"Not at all! I love working at the bakeshop!"

"It looks like Bella brainwashed you, then!" The girl exclaimed with a serious expression.

"Hey!" Lila sputtered, "She's a nice, old lady!"

Oliver's Housemate suddenly burst into muffled laughter behind her hand. "I'm totally kidding! She makes good food, based on what you bring back, and that's all that matters. The girls totally got to go there sometime."

Oliver imagined all those crazy young ladies flooding the blue plastic tables, clamoring and throwing cupcake crumbs all over the place. "Sometime," he agreed. A door closed behind her, and she stepped away to allow Matt and Siegmund to go out into the hall.

The blond stopped beside Oliver, oblivious to the fact Lila was angrily sniffing the air at him. "You didn't go with the others?"

"No, I have work," Oliver said again.

Matt tossed the girl a dark look. She lightly cleared her throat, eyes flickering between Oliver and a distant wall. "I'm going to go back to my room now. See you!"

"Thank you dear." The baker turned to the duo. "You do not have to frighten the ladies, if you mind."

"What?" Matt took a step back, almost into Siegmund, who lifted his arms to pat his back. "What are you talking about?"

Oliver only shook his head. "The others went to rid of the guns. If you hurry, then you should be able to catch up with them."

"We're not going with them. We're going to that bakery with you. Remember, that 'travel with others' thing is still going, and I don't see anyone else with you."

"Of course you don't!" Lila tittered.

"Of course," Oliver echoed.

"Besides, Mund...Siegmund is getting hungry."

Said teen cracked a malicious grin, and the deep rumble from his stomach confirmed Matt's words. Oliver gestured down the hall. "Come on, then, before this poor boy withers to nothing."

Siegmund nudged his partner, mouthing, 'Poor boy.' Matt rolled his eyes, and set his jaw crookedly, miserably failing to not smile.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, we need to take my boss' car to get there."

"Why do you have..." Matt sighed, "Never mind. Let's go."

"Look at this!" Anabella welcomed the newcomers with a light laugh and a fresh batch of pumpkin spice muffins, based on the smell wafting from them. It was that time of the year, after all. "You brought friends!"

"Bella," Oliver called out, hurrying to lift the lid from the counter display.

"And my car, too," the elder added, low enough for only him to hear.

The teen sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "That is something we need to talk about alone." Louder, he asked, "Are you well?"

"Well enough to work again, yes, dear," Anabella chuckled, depositing the muffins onto the clear shelves. Her gray eyes glanced up to the movement of Siegmund and Matt approaching the counter. "Ah, newcomers. Do you need a menu? The list is on that trifold."

"We've been here before," Matt said. The mute picked up the plastic tent, and turned it over experimentally. "I'm Allen's brother, Matt, and this is Siegmund. I heard my bro lurks here a bit too often."

Siegmund pointed to something on the menu, but then his finger trailed down when he caught something better. Another choice on the other side called to him, and he dropped the laminated list in excitement as he turned it over.

"We'll be a little bit," Matt announced. He knelt down at the same time his partner did, and Oliver flinched at the sound of their skulls knocking against one another. "Son of a..." the blond grabbed his head, mindful of Anabella still smiling at them expectantly. They both shakily rose, holding onto the counter. Siegmund was dazed from the occurrence, nursing his forming bruise on his forehead.

"How about some of those pumpkin muffins?" Oliver suggested. "They are nice and warm."

Matt slapped the menu back on the counter. "That'll be good," he rubbed his own forming mark, and avoided Siegmund's apologetic stare.

"I will get it Oliver," Anabella claimed. "Go and fetch some cherry syrup in the basement, will you?"

"Cherry syrup?" Oliver and Lila echoed at once. The elder lifted her eyebrows, and he exclaimed, "Oh, yes! For the delivery later. Right-o." He hurried into the kitchen, where he mumbled to the fairy on his head, "I suppose you will not be keen on coming with me."

Lila stretched her neck to peer over his head when he unlatched the basement's door, and shuddered from the darkness reaching out for them. She launched away from the creeping coal tars. "Eugh, no thanks! I'll be in the front room with the company."

The teen watched her go, until a black ball interrupted his line of sight, floating pass his face. Oliver coughed from the trail of dust falling from the coal tar. He slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, and swished the other at it. "Shoo, back into the basement with you. Unless you want to slowly wither away into nothing in the sunlight."

The mold possessing creature chittered, and wiggled mid-flight to escape the invading rays of light. Oliver made a satisfied sound, and closed the door behind himself. He slowly edged down the steps he would not fall before reaching the light. The bare metal table waited for its next cradle, causing a rush of excited goose bumps to tackle his arms. He stared at them in wonder.

A soft tone permeated the heavy door, and Oliver paused on the other side, hovering an ear to the metal. The voice was quiet, as all songs are, but was a different language he did not know. His eyebrows mashed together when it cut off to a lingering note. The tunnel was filled with silence once more, and he pressed closer to the door, encouraging the sounds.

"You can open the door now."

Oliver jerked away from Nikolai's voice. He set a pale hand on the handle while his ears burned red, and pulled it open. The man sat on one of the wall benches, tapping his palms against his lap. Both of them smiled uneasily at one another. "That was a lovely tune you were singing. I cannot say that I know the language, though."

"Of course," Nikolai curtly shrugged. "Not many know Russian around here when they hear it."

The boy looked to his feet.

"How is Anabella?"

"Fine, fine," Oliver glanced to the dirt wall. "She is up and moving around again. Just now, she pulled a batch of pumpkin muffins from the oven."

"Hm," Nikolai put a gloved hand to his stomach. "I would not dislike having one of those."

The baker turned to him, blurting, "I could bring something next time you have a delivery."

The operator's posture perked. "Would you?"

"I offered," Oliver pointed out, and dropped his eyes again.

"Hu-hu! I say you did!"

Oliver wondered at times how he tangled himself with odd people like him. His lips uplifted in a smile without his will. Then, the usual pair of boys emerged from the hall, lugging an enormous body. "Oh, wow," he murmured.

Nikolai clapped excitedly. "That is what I need!"

One of the boys sported a shallow gash on the side of his head, only nodding in reply. Sometimes, the targets fight back, but that was to be expected. "I suppose you will be having a blast on that one," Oliver commented. "It will take longer, too, I presume."

"It will be like unwrapping a present! Or should I say it is closer to slicing it open, and excavating the contents?" Another spooky laugh from Nikolai urged Oliver to dig for his wallet, and pay him to be over with his presence quicker. "Ooh, money!"

"I will be going upstairs now."

"Yes, yes," Nikolai bustled by the teen, not bothering to count the cash, but he never made a habit to do so. The other boys backed away from the metal table to avoid being shoved over by the surgeon's large figure. Their eyes followed Oliver more apprehensively.

"There you are," Anabella sighed contently once Oliver drew up to her position behind the front counter. Lila rejoiced with a shout of his name, and took her perch on top of his head. The teen giggled lightly as his boss continued, "You look a bit pale. Did Nikolai try to get you to lay on the table?"

Oliver's eyes widened, and his laughter cut off to a small choke. "His operating table?" He sputtered under his breath, aware of his Housemates situated at the table closest to the windows. "Goodness, no. Rather, he was pleased by today's delivery. It was a big fat one. I did not linger for details."

Anabella put a fist in front of her mouth, and cleared her throat. She eyed the two boys fiddling with their muffins, and observing the pedestrians rushing about. "How are things at the House? Did someone cause trouble?"

"They are always causing trouble, Bella. There was an emergency, and I had to get to the House right away, so I took your car. I hope you do not mind. It is the same condition as the time I got into it-"

"That is not what I am concerned about. What happened, Oliver?"

Oliver's eyes drifted to Siegmund nudging Matt. The mute used the distraction to take one of his muffins. "These boys have been threatening the other inhabitants, and made it very dangerous to step outside the House! It is taken care of as this moment."

The blond went to grab at Siegmund's thieving hand, but was too slow. Siegmund shook with laughter, almost dropping his half eaten muffin as Matt turned away. Oliver murmured, "At least, I hope it is over."

Anabella quirked her brows, but opted to keep quiet. Dismayed that Matt was giving him a frosty shoulder, Siegmund shook him, holding out the rest of his stolen muffin in a desperate attempt to reconcile. The other boy glanced in his direction at the prospect of food, and plucked it from his hand.

"Sharing is caring," the elder mused. "That is an old smiler's phrase."

Oliver almost tipped his head, but remembered the fairy relaxing on top of it. "I think somebody said that to me before." He distracted himself from watching Siegmund resting his head against Matt's shoulder by tugging the creases from his dress shirt. "Do I correctly assume there are many more?"

"Definitely," Anabella proudly announced. "We have many things figured out. There are a lot of things to say."

Oliver gazed at her aged profile, but her eyes were distant on the cars dangerously flying by the bakery. "I am all ears."


	30. Chapter 29

Oliver persuaded Anabella to let him drive, since the elder's eyes were too unfocused and weary for his liking. The delivery run was not long, but after a heavy bout of sickness, running the bakery was enough for her strength. Siegmund and Matt begrudgingly ambled outside, ushered out of the bakery with the excuse of grocery shopping. They were bakers; the decoy was a perfect excuse. Lila stayed behind to 'watch over the bakery.' After slamming the trunk close, as it did not shut all the way the first time, Oliver risked his life to reach the driver's side of the car.

"You are a natural," Anabella granted once the engine revved.

The teen's ears flushed. "I-I have had an excellent teacher."

Anabella let out a little laugh from her throat, and stared out of the window as the vehicle swerved away from the curb. "It is a cold day," she murmured. Oliver kept his eyes on the road, but his fingers gripped tighter on the steering wheel. Small talk about the weather seemed below them. She continued, "Winter will pick up business. With all the other summer shops closing for the season, sweet tooth's will need to find new hunting grounds."

Last winter was crazy with batches of festive cakes and cookies with seasonal designs. Oliver smiled at the memory; the divots around his nails were dyed with various icings for many washes. "Not that we need the money..."

They shared crinkled smiles and small giggles. "What they do not know, will not hurt them."

"It is not like we put those problem customers in our cupcakes!"

"No, no!" Anabella shook her head, doubling over with laughter. The driver beside them at the purple light eyed them with a sour pucker. "The batter would get too heavy!"

The boy let out an embarrassing peal of chortles. He slapped a hand over his mouth, as if it could stifle the sounds. "Pardon me!"

The old woman tossed him a suddenly blank look. "There is no need to be pardoned," she simply said, until her worker pulled up to a bus stop. "Ah, here we are."

The trio of doctors caught sight of Anabella, and elbowed one another. Oliver opened the hatch, and brought out the cooler. The morning was late, so the men and woman were living on their own, independent of their coffees.

"Hey, you!" The dark haired man called to Anabella shuffling onto the sidewalk. Oliver eyed the other vehicles whipping past them while he settled the cooler beside Louis' feet. A hand rested on his back, and he jerked away just when it started making circling motions.

"Watch it!" Oliver snapped.

"Yes, yes," Anabella assured the others, "I am fine now."

"For now," the man muttered. "Really, Bells, we can help-"

"No," the elder rubbed the back of her shriveled hands. "There is no need to drag this out."

"Oh," Louis leaned forward, "I am watching."

The smell of cigarettes and floral scents clashed in a not so charming manner. Oliver held his hands up in a poor attempt to stop his advances. "It would be better for you to watch from afar."

"Dammit, Louis!" The woman barked, "What did I tell you about hitting on everything with a pulse?! Be useful and carry that, will you?"

"I would, but I am busy," Louis claimed. "I am trying to light my dark, dark life."

"Boo," the other man performed a thumbs-down. Oliver scooted closer to Anabella, as if her presence would ward off her grandson. "Let's get going. We're going to be late...again."

"That means you, too," Anabella swished a hand at Louis. "He doesn't need to be pulled in different directions by all these young gentlemen."

Louis grunted, giving his stubble a scratch before pecking his grandmother's cheeks. "Stay safe," he muttered, giving Oliver a last look. The teen was sure to blow a raspberry when his back was turned, but his boss wacked his arm, smiling sweetly despite her vicious attack. She laughed once they were situated in the car again, but it broke off to a light fit of coughs. Oliver flickered his eyes in her direction. With a sigh, she straightened out, and met his concerned gaze. "When we get to the bakery, I will need to lay my head down."

Oliver pulled into the usual parking spot in front of the bakeshop, his heart pounding with excitement despite the elder's worrisome news. That evening was supposed to be an eventful one! Lila was waiting for him before the windows, and immediately pounced on his head with a loud squeal. The teen glanced at Anabella, in case she heard the ear piercing sound, but like everyone else, all the time, she did not react. She was quietly desperate to get to her bed, which he allowed without further questions.

"We do not have any orders until the day after tomorrow, but it is a tad too early to head back to the House just yet."

Lila shuffled in his hair, putting in, "I thought you had a bet happening later."

"Yes, I do, but dinner is still a couple of hours from now."

"What does dinner have to do with it?" The fairy stopped herself. "Let me guess, I will see?"

"You said it!" Oliver stopped flipping through the near blank pages of the reservation book to glower at a cobweb in the ceiling corner.

Lila spun around on his head, and gasped, "Oliver! Outside!"

The boy whipped around at her squeaky tone, and she had to readjust her position from the sudden movement. Before the front door's pane, Gizmo sat on his haunches, drawing a dark claw down the glass. The chimera stared at Oliver with wide, nearly black eyes. Oliver eased, and crept closer to the door. Out of courtesy, he let the cat-monkey into the bakery. "You are a while from the House!"

Gizmo leaped onto one of the tables to get closer to the baker's level. It began right away, "A concerning occurrence is unfolding. It appears to be dire, and I inferred it may be of importance that you know about it."

"Uh oh," Lila began.

Oliver crouched before the table, gripping the edges tightly. "What do you mean? What is happening?"

"Those...mechanisms your kind travel in...there are several of them that are constantly circling the property." At the sight of the teen's confused expression, Gizmo's tail twitched. "These bright orbs are on top of the great carriers, and these humans that came out of them were dressed all the same."

"That sounds like the police!" Oliver glanced around the bakery in rising panic. "We must leave immediate-" he yelped as the chimera leaped from the table, and landed on his shoulders, disrupting his balance a bit. Lila exclaimed in disgust, revolving around them in lost of her perch. The baker fished for his keys from his pocket, and jabbed one at the door's lock. His shaking hands made the simple task more difficult than it had to be.

Gizmo's claws prickled against Oliver's scalp in urgency, and then as a way to keep rooted on his shoulders as the boy pelted down the sidewalk. Lila cried out to chase after them, latching onto the cat-monkey's matted fur so she would not be left behind.

Oliver huffed between quick breaths, "How long...did it take...for you get here?!"

"I left the vicinity after the second scouting was finished around the property. You were not at the delicious smelling place when I arrived."

"B-bollocks!" Oliver let slip, his cheeks inflaming with exertion. A passerby scrambled to latch onto her large tote bag as he zipped by her. He wanted to say worse things, but he did not have the breath or dignity. He cursed himself, however, as he realized he could have took Anabella's car again, but was too caught up in the moment to dote on it.

"Oliver?" A distant voice called, hoarse and ahead of him. "Oliver!" Some of the pedestrians swerved, as if to escape the shouting. Matt and Siegmund pushed by a man with his nose stuck in his cellphone. All of them were red faced and panting as they stopped a few feet from one another. "We...we were...hah, just going to get you."

"I have heard," Oliver breathlessly and stupidly replied. Lila let out a worried whine.

The other boys exchanged a confused look. "Wha-?"

"It does not matter at the moment. We need to get back to the House."

They nodded, hesitating for a moment to catch some air before charging after Oliver. He made it more than halfway across town before almost running into his Housemates, so within a few moments, which dragged on for anybody running, they neared the pointed fence surrounding the House's yard.

"Wait!" Matt called out, skidding to a stop. Siegmund and Oliver jogged back to him. "Those cruisers...hah, holy shit, those cruisers weren't parked there before. Dammit, that means they haven't gotten the others yet."

"Others? Who, Crookednose's posse?"

Matt shook his head, his chest heaving. "Let's go in the back way. I don't want to get snatched by one of them."

"Matt," Oliver barked, "They are taking my neighbor's pals away, right?!"

"They are supposed to! But when our guys returned, all of sudden, the police showed up, and started hunting them down!"

"What?!"

Siegmund let out a sharp exhale, throwing his head back. Oliver gave him a sympathetic look. "Hate...running...too."

Gizmo asked, ruffled from the random movements, "Are those...are those cruisers dangerous to other humans?"

Lila answered him, "People called officers drive those. They seem to like to take others away for long times for doing bad stuff, but sometimes, the people that are taken away didn't even do bad things! Oliver had not had pleasant experiences associated with them."

"I should stay out of the way if that is the case," the chimera decided, readying to launch off the teen's shoulders. "I have done what I could to benefit a friend."

Oliver gasped at the sudden lost of weight on his head, and stumbled into the backyard. The others gave him bewildered looks. Matt started again, "Someone called the cops, and it wasn't any of us! We did not need to. We had everything figured out!"

Siegmund began signing with a haunted expression, but the other teen's attention snapped to a loud cackle echoing across the landscape. All pairs of eyes landed to a rightmost window, where Oliver's neighbor nearly hung out of its frame. "You better run along now, or else you will be sleeping behind bars!"

"What did you do?" Oliver hollered.

"Are you stupid?" Matt snarled. "The police are going to get all of us!"

"Not me!" Another of Crookednose's pals wedged beside him. "We're not the ones that have the guns the cops were looking for!"

Oliver tried, "Why-?"

"Bastard!" Matt sprinted forward, and threw open the back door to get inside. Siegmund gestured for Oliver to stay, and he pelted after the blond.

"Shit!" Crookednose spat, tossing a glance behind himself. "Why did you have to say those kinds of things?! Get out of here before that psycho, maple loving wacko gets us!"

"Pansies!" Oliver hollered, but the window was already slammed shut. "Oh, goodness," he whirled around, jumping in fright at familiar shapes. "Lila, what do I do?! They're after the wrong group of boys!" Just fifteen minutes ago, everything was as it usually was, and he was already loathing this mass confusion spread to all four corners of the property.

A high, furious shriek came from the front of the House. "That sounds like Luciano!" The teen clapped his hands over his mouth. Lila was lost for words, and her stammering did not help matters. Oliver lurched forward to investigate, or perhaps somehow come up with a way to help his friends, but something crashed against the wooden siding of the House.

"Oliver, stop!"

Oliver backed away to crane his head to the balcony. "Allen!" He called out in half joy, half confusion. "What is going on?!"

The other teen grabbed the balcony's railings, and swung his legs over the wood. "Don't go over there, Ollie!"

"What are you doing?!" Despite his crazy protests, Allen dropped from the deck, and thumped on the grass, catching himself on both his feet. "Your brother just went inside-"

"Fuck, that was rough," Allen growled, but went right for the baker. His round features were plagued by a furious expression, cutting off Oliver's confused blubbering by sweeping him off the ground, and spun him around, closer to the rear gate.

"Ugh," Oliver was roughly sat down. "Allen, there are-" He was smothered by a needy kiss that squished their noses together. Just as quickly he grabbed him, Allen's lips left his to attack anywhere else. "Wha-! This is lovely, and all-" His cheek, over the bridge of his nose, to the other expanse of freckles made the baker fidget against the hands that clutched on his upper arms. "There are police officers here!"

"I know," Allen spat in a dark tone. "I know, dammit." He rested his forehead against Oliver's shoulder for a quick moment as he squeezed him tightly. Lila was constantly jumping and twitching in his hair, as if she was going mad. The other teen took a heavy breath, and announced, "You gotta get outa here."

"What?!"

Allen snapped his head up, and forced Oliver to spin around before shoving him between his shoulder blades. "Go! If they see you're wit' us, they'll nick you, too."

Oliver stumbled for a few steps, and twisted around, ferocious and flustered. "Oh no, you are not doing this. Us? No, you are coming with me!"

The other boy latched onto his shoulders when Oliver marched over again to grab him. "Just go, Ollie! It's too late fer us! They know who they're lookin' fer!"

"They have the wrong boys!" Oliver cried out, still gripping Allen's jacket despite his partner's best attempts to lodge him off.

"You think they would listen to me?! After all the trouble I caused fer 'em? They're waitin' fer an excuse to get me! This is it!"

"Oliver!" Lila panicked. "Please, let's just go!"

"No, no, no, not you, too!"

"Ollie, listen," it must have been difficult to speak as his shirt was clawed by desperate hands. "They can't keep me forever. I will come back. Fuck, I'll bust out, but it'll be worse if I don't go now!"

Oliver let out a gasp for his lost at the final, short lived kiss Allen planted on his lips before ripping himself away. "Come back, you idiot!"

"I will!" Allen did a short salute, jogging backwards a few steps before twisting around to run normally. The side of the House took the visual from Oliver.

Lila yanked on his hair when the boy took a step in Allen's direction. "You need to leave! _Now,_ Oliver!"

"But-" Another, root pulling yank made him yelp. "Ow! Oh, blast it all!" Oliver spat, and spun around to bolt for the rear gate. "Blast it to pieces!"

"If only!" Lila unusually snarled. She gasped as a loud whoop approached from other side of the fence, quickly approaching the back of the property. However, pass the parking lot by the rear gate, more trees clustered together before a line of suburban houses, and Oliver ducked by a large bush against one of the houses' fences before any purple and yellow lights could shine on his face. He collapsed onto the cool grass, and shrunk against the wooden stakes. Lila was launched off his head, falling a little ways from him. His chest heaved for breath, "Running...ugh."

The fairy shot up into the air, only momentarily dazed. "Oliver! Are you okay?!"

The teen blubbered pass his breaths, which jumped to erratic inhales with his tears. Lila pushed on his forehead. "Sit up! Sit up, Ollie! You got to breathe!"

He tried that, slouched against the fence, and was able to sob more coherently. "I-it was a mistake...!"

"I know, Oliver. Just get it out."

All of it, the running, the sudden seizure of a large chunk of what he built for himself, and the great gap where all the happy plans of 'laters' and 'tomorrows' left behind as they were sucked away went out in rapid gasps and jumbled fragments. Lila rested on his knee, and nodded to each of Oliver's sloppy phrases.

"If Miss Warden knows...this is mistake! She can help me!"

"No, Oliver!" Lila launched off his leg to hover in front of his wide, watery eyes. "You can't do that! If you start explaining everything, she'll know you were a part of the plot! Just stay here, until the po-po.."

"P-police?"

"Puh-lease men leave. They'll take you away like they did to Marionette!" She gasped, "Just think! Your mother would be devastated if she found out you were imprisoned! I'll tell her!"

"That's awful!" Oliver wailed, but it kept him rooted to the grass.

"Then stay there!" Lila retorted, jabbing his nose with a small finger. "Don't forget Bella would be sad, too! You would not hurt a poor old woman's feelings, would you?"

"N-no!"

The fairy threw her arms up. "Point proven!"

"What about Allen, and the rest of my friends-?!"

"Allen said he will come back!"

"What if...what if h-he does not-"

"Stop. Stop!" Lila poked his nose again. "Saying things like that will only make you feel worse!"

The boy pressed his head to his knees. "I just had to get in a tizzy over a delinquent, did I?"

His small friend crossed her arms. "You weren't complaining about it before!"

The sirens whooped, startling the both of them, and the lights flashed across the sky before they drove off. "They are leaving," Oliver murmured, trying to make a view of himself by wiping the mess on his face.

"I can go check if everything is A-Okay to go back. It's getting dark, and I don't want anybody sneaking up on you!"

"Would you?"

"I would!" Lila claimed, and zipped off, leaving Oliver in the nearing night. He wedged his face between his legs once more, shivering from the grass numbing his behind, and from the autumn breeze that bit into his skin.


	31. Chapter 30

Oliver was settled on the edge of his bed, affixing the buttons of his nightshirt when rapid knocks hit his bedroom door. He jumped, staring at the wood panels in alarm. If he opened the door, several, big, scary police officers could tackle him to the ground, and shout violent things in his ear! Another round of hits prompted him off the bed, and closer to the door.

"W-who," Oliver moistened his lips to speak more clearer. "Who is it?"

"It's Matt."

"Matt?" He gasped, clawing at the lock. Sure enough, on the other side of the door, no police officers stood, but the gruff blond was there. "You are still here?!"

Matt raised his eyebrows. "I was going to say the same thing." He looked down the hall, and nodded. "Oliver's all right."

"Who-"

Flavio and Siegmund crept forth, staring with equally wide eyes. The former snorted, "This is what is left of us? There's half of us missing!"

"What," Matt glowered, "Even my brother?"

Oliver dropped his eyes to the floorboards. "He is...Allen was taken away, too. We only bumped into one another at the end. He said he had to leave. The police knew who they were looking for."

Flavio shook his head. "Why were the police even here-"

Matt suddenly hollered, "You fucker!" Oliver yelped, jumping back when his arm swung and collided with the adjacent wall. Siegmund scrambled to grab his shoulders, and give them a worried shake. "Allen...you asshole."

Oliver peeked pass his door frame. Matt's hand was embedded in a hole in the cheap wooden wall. The blond ripped his arm away, and plucked the shards stuck in his skin as if he were removing clothing. Siegmund rubbed the offended limb, pressing closer to his back. "He knew. He knew that if I got to him before the police did, I would have gone with him! I should have been there with him when they were dropping off the guns! Instead I..." he trailed off as the mute stepped back, his arms still held up where he was rubbing his shoulders.

"You were keeping Siegmund company, Matt." Oliver said quietly, not wanting to be the next target of those swinging fists. "If you were jailed, he would have been left alone. He already had his brother ripped away from him. Don't make it worse for the both of you."

Flavio _tisk_ ed, "We all lost our brothers. All of us."

"They are not gone forever," Oliver tried, but Siegmund slouched against the further wall, crossing his arms.

"Of course not," Matt grumbled, only glancing in Oliver's direction. "The cops most likely took them to juvenile detention. Once they turn into legal adults, they'll get let out, unless they do something stupid."

"Again," Flavio put in. He shrugged as the other blond scowled. "That is more than a year for all of them, especially Lutz. He is the youngest out of all of us."

"Flavio," Oliver warned.

"What? We need to talk about this. Ignoring it and moping will not make it all better."

"I am not trying to make it all better!" Matt spat, finally pushing from his wall. "I just...ugh!"

"I know, I know!" Oliver held his hands up. "We all lost somebody, but you have to remember, so did Crookednose. At least half of them, too, are gone. We are still a team, and we should keep acting like it. We should meet up in the dining hall, share breakfast, and look out for one another...right?"

Flavio curled his nose. "Do we still have to do that buddy system? There are only four of us."

"Well, maybe we will be safe without it..."

Matt echoed, "You think."

"They will be laying low as well. It would be stupid to get the police to turn back so soon."

"I'm fine with it," Flavio shrugged. "There's no reason to dramatically change our lives because some part of them is _temporary_ missing."

"Fine," Matt turned to Siegmund still bracing himself against some panels. "Just keep in mind when those parts come back from their _temporary_ leave, they are going to get their assess kicked." The mute brightened at that, and straightened, taking Matt's offered hand. Flavio and Oliver exchanged pleased looks.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

When he awoke the next morning, Oliver stretched his legs, and his toes hit the footboard of his bed. With a small "Ow," he retracted his sore legs back into their bent position.

"Yahoo, Oliver!" Lila's voice chirped from the other side of his pillow. When the teen only replied with a non-committal grunt, she shambled to sit on the side of his head. "Wakey, wakey!"

"Ugh!" Oliver picked up his head, blinking to complete consciousness. The fairy squeaked in alarm, and slid back onto the pillow. "I suppose I _have_ to wake up." He flicked the covers away from himself, and stumbled to the bathroom on rubbery limbs. The boy just finished scrubbing his face dry when there was a knock against the other door. He instinctively jumped when any noise came from the direction of his neighbor's bedroom. "What?"

"Are you done in there?" That snotty voice called out. "I am going to pee down my leg."

Oliver considered saying that was a good thing, but he decided to be a mature young man about their exchange, and opted to be silent. He slapped the towel back on its handle, and marched out of the bathroom, firmly closing the door behind him. Lila was tugging on his bed sheets to cover the pillow as he usually did. "I can do that!"

"I got it!" Lila insisted. She dropped a corner against the wall, and fluttered to the other side. "You got to change into clean clothes!"

"Yes, Mum," Oliver turned to his dresser. After they were both finished, the fairy flew over and nuzzled into his hair.

"What are we going to do today?"

"Go to the bakery, that is certain. Other than that..."

"We can get apples for Gizmo!" Lila suggested before Oliver could say something gloomy.

That would be a few minutes knocked away. Oliver smiled, "Oh, what is this, you being nice to Gizmo? Did you not say he smells?"

"He _did_ help us yesterday."

The teen stuffed his wallet and keys into his trousers' pocket. "If you say so!" He twisted around to lock his bedroom door, and breezed down the corridor.

"Hey!" Lila spat. Oliver's heels clacked against the floorboards in quick movements. "Hey Ollie!" She said again when he entered the dining hall. Oliver made a noise of acknowledgement as his eyes swept the eating area. It was surely much more unoccupied. His usual table had Siegmund sitting at it already, munching on a piece of toast. He raised a pale hand, and waved.

"I saw that golden haired boy again!"

"What golden haired boy?" Oliver's voice was lower around the other inhabitants. Siegmund furrowed his eyebrows, seeing that his mouth moved, but could not hear. "I am going to get something to eat." The mute bobbed his head, and gobbled down the rest of his bread.

As Oliver grabbed two apples, Lila said, "The boy that looks like you! I think he was looking for something when I saw him. I popped out of the bushes like, 'Huzzah!' and he freaked out!"

"Was that necessary?" Oliver grumbled, his voice very low around his Housemates browsing the breakfast platters.

Lila giggled, proud of what she done. "Maybe you should try to talk to him again!"

"Maybe..."

"Oliver!" Another voice caught him on the way back to his table. He turned in the direction of one of the girls from the metal benches. "Hey, Oliver," she started again, more calm and careful.

"Hello, dear. Are you all right?"

The girl sniffled. "Are you? The police came by and took a lot of people away yesterday!"

"None of you, right?"

She swung her head side to side. "We tried staying out of it. I thought those dangerous boys were going to get nagged, but not all of them did!"

"No, they did not."

Lila let out a sad sound. The girl continued, "It's weird that only some of them were captured, you know? Siegmund is right over there, and I saw Crookednose and some of his pals still creeping around. It seems like they just took a few guys to prove a point."

Oliver clenched his hands into fists along his sides. "Yes, it does seem that way."

"Be careful," she said more sadly, and tapped his arm. "We're still around if you need to talk to us."

"I will. Thank you," Oliver turned away toward his usual table. Breakfast was dreadfully boring. The four left behind ate their food in silence, save for the exchange of odd hand gestures between Siegmund and Matt. Flavio picked at his nails more than his fruit. The baker went on a limb to announce, "I am going to go to the bakery later. Would anyone like to go, too?"

"Me!" Lila cheered.

Matt said, "We went there yesterday. I was thinking of doing something else today."

Flavio turned his head away. "I have plans."

Oliver wondered why they gave him vague answers instead of saying they did not want to go. He fretfully sighed, "Well, if that is so, I will be going now." They did not spare glances in his direction. Not doting on their low moods, since he could relate, he quietly rose from the table with a leftover apple, and hurried to the double doors. The teen passed Miss Warden without a word, although she set her book down for him.

"Gizmo?" Oliver called out once the front door clamped shut. "Gizmo, I have apples!"

An excited hiss broke through the bare trees. A fuzz ball of white slunk through the branches, and dropped down the bark of the plant closest to Oliver. "Another cold day." Gizmo greedily reached out a small hand.

Oliver handed over the apple. "It will only get worse."

"My pelt can handle the snow, different Realm or not. As long as I have apples, I can brave through the winter."

"Thank you for yesterday," the boy clasped his hands in front of himself to occupy them. "If you have not warned me, I would have not seen Allen one last time."

The cat-monkey's tail twitched as it lifted its flat muzzle from the fruit. "You give me food. It was my gratitude." Its feline ears flattened as it glanced toward the back yard when a loud whoop echoed across the property. Oliver jumped from the annoying noise. "If you wish not to be confronted by the remains of those troublesome children, you should leave immediately. The cold winds have no effects on their hearts."

Oliver did not bother watching Gizmo scramble up the tree, but he heard the discarded apple core land on the ground with a quick _thump_ as he pelted toward the front gate. Better safe than possibly cut up from retaliation; the boy rather been caught running away than face the bloodlust of his neighbor's posse. The gate slammed shut, but Oliver continued running down the town's walkways until his legs, lungs, and Lila begged him to stop.

"Woo..." he heavily panted as the fairy readjusted herself from being jostled halfway across town. Passersby took the opportunity of his feet cobbling down the street from exertion to glare, but their eyes had no sting against him.

"Hey!" Lila called out. "There's the bakery!"

A baker belongs in a bakeshop; Oliver let out a soothed sigh, inhaling the eternal scents of oven warmed goods that welcomed him in a blanket of hospitality. There were no fresh batches wafting in the air, however, and the kitchen lights were off. "Bella?" The boy called out, and flicked up the light switch.

"Bella!" Oliver turned to the other doorway, and set a foot on the first step of the dark staircase. Only silence answered him. After a moment of waiting, he slowly ascended the stairs. The upstairs kitchen and living room were only bright from the natural red sunlight. He crept toward the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom and the elder's bedroom. Her door was cracked, but the teen did not push it open further. Instead, he called out her name once more.

A startled snort erupted on the other side, causing Oliver to warily step away from the wall. "Who is there?"

"Bella, it is Oliver."

"And Lila!"

Oliver swished a hand at the fairy on his head, and she smacked him back.

The elder was quiet for a few ragged breaths. "Oh, Oliver, is it that time to open shop already?"

"Yes, but you can stay in bed if you are not feeling up to-"

"No, no, I need to walk around for a bit." Anabella groaned as her mattress springs squeaked under her movements. The elder opened the door, shuffling to the bathroom in her slippers and nightgown.

Oliver turned away politely as she closed the door. "I will be downstairs," he called out, but doubted she listened.

"She's sick again," Lila murmured.

"She has been sick," the teen pointed out. He gave his bowtie a tug to fix its crookedness, and padded to the front window. As he flipped the 'closed' sign (with little stars and a moon) to the 'open' side (with sunshine and flowers), a man passed by, and stared into the bakery. Oliver offered a docile smile, but a brief look of shock reached the stranger's eyes before he hurried along.

"Oh, goodness!" Oliver slapped a hand to his chest. "I cannot let a stranger smile at me! Everyone will think I am going bonkers!"

Lila scolded, "Now, that poor man is traumatized!"

"Poor thing," he rolled his eyes at the pedestrians bumbling about, and moved away from the glass. Faint steps and creaks permeating through the ceiling made his eyes flicker up to the sounds. He said more sincerely, "Poor Bella!" With no orders in the book, the kitchen being tidy, and no deliveries for Nikolai that day, he could look forward to relaxing and talking to his boss, who just happened to be an old friend.

Just for the both of them, Oliver started a kettle to boil for tea on the stovetop. Lila sighed, rustling in his hair, most likely from not having stimulation. He had to agree; watching steam blow from a nozzle was not the best entertainment. More footsteps skidded along the tiled floors, and eventually creaked down the stairs. Anabella shuffled into the kitchen, and the boy greeted her with a warm smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept too much," Bella admitted. She eyed the kettle on the stove, slack jawed.

"I am making tea for the both of us. I-if that is all right."

"The water is already boiling." Anabella turned away to cough. Oliver's simper fell. He put his worries on flicking the heat off, and pouring the water in the ceramic mugs without spilling it all over the counter. His boss, after her throat was clear, reached in the fridge for a jug of milk, and dragged her feet to fetch some sugar. "No reservations?"

"Not yet."

"It looks like it will be quiet for now. Can you carry my cup to one of the tables?" Anabella's voice cracked, "I will be out in a moment."

"Of course," Oliver murmured. He grabbed the mugs, and left the kitchen without a glance back. He felt his hair twitch as Lila fidgeted when Anabella's fierce coughs echoed across the empty shop. The short clink of the cups hitting the table top, and the chair dragging along the floor only covered a small part of the horrid noises.

"Ollie," the fairy started. Oliver brought his cup to his lips, and flinched as the tea smacked him. "Oh!" She exclaimed at his twitching. "Too hot?"

Oliver set the mug back on the table, face puckering. "No, I made it sweet. Very sweet." He sighed, staring at the pale liquid. He was starting to get cold as the winter air, and his shoulders felt too light. The teen entertained the thought of floating away without a strong arm draped over them.

Anabella emerged from the kitchen. "When you sit there like that, you look lonely."

"You are here with me, Bella."

"I said you look lonely, not alone." The elder slowly lowered herself in one of the chairs, and clutched onto her cup, but did not drink from it. "What bothers you, young man?"

The small sprinkle-like designs on the tabletop held Oliver's interest. "The police came by yesterday." His boss' expression morphed into one of guarded fright. "Do you remember how I kept saying some boys were carrying weapons, and made it dangerous to go outside?"

"Oh dear..."

Oliver stared down his steaming tea. "Some...Housemates of mine decided that it went on long enough, and launched a counterattack. They stripped the bullies of their weapons so they could not use them to harm anyone, and took them places to exchange the guns for money. It was good for everyone."

"Who called the police?"

"Our best guess is that it was those blokes that had their toys taken from them. They turned the blame on my friends, claiming that they were the ones the police have been searching for."

"Then the good guys were blamed," Anabella tapped her fingertip to her mouth in thought. Her eyebrows raised in realization. "Was it...was it any of our boys?"

"Allen is gone."

Both of them, plus Lila, even though she did not have her own cup, frowned at their teas. The liquid was no longer appealing, but Oliver clung onto his mug for warmth. His boss softly cleared her throat. "It may sound silly," she began, "but this is just another bump in the ride of life. Would you wait in line for a straight track?"

The teen made a puttering noise in place of laughter. "No, I suppose not."


	32. Chapter 31

"Spooky! Creepers are going to come after you!"

"Belt up, Lila!" Oliver spat, walking as fast as he could down the sidewalk without breaking into a run. He had a new dislike for running, and the lack of leg muscle to fuel it. The sky was becoming an ominous dark purple, urging him to seek sanctuary from the cold and night before creepers _do_ come after him.

Two figures posed at the front gate, and did not speak or move against the fence. Oliver skittered, hanging in the darkness to stare with wide eyes. One shifted away from the wood, gawking back at him. "Don't shit yourself," a raspy voice emitted from the shadow. "It's me, Matt."

Lila giggled, "Too late!"

Oliver nonchalantly drew a hand over his hair. "Why are you lingering outside? It is getting late and cold."

"Same to you. I'm used to it." The other figure drew up to Matt, and clung onto his arm. A car zipped by, illuminating both his and Siegmund's faces for a quick moment. "We have nothing better to do, and besides, we're still a group, even without most of our pals."

Siegmund released his bicep to sign. The blond translated, "He was worried..." he glanced to the mute with a questionable tilt of his head. "He was worried those...weenies tried something."

"Did they?"

"Not yet, but with a lot of us gone, they're bound to do so." Matt jerked his head to the gate. "We should head inside."

"I would not mind that," Oliver claimed, but the pair already swung the gate open, not acknowledging his banter. It may been a tad awful to think it, but he was grateful that Matt and Siegmund were not the ones arrested. If Luciano or Kuro were left behind, he may have been left to his own devices once more. Besides, he gave the current pair baked goods; they should remain on friendly terms.

Oliver asked, "Have you seen any of them around?"

"Of course," Matt stamped up the porch steps. "They creep and watch in the cracks and crevices. You'll see them. It's only a matter of time, especially how Crookednose's bedroom is next to yours."

Miss Warden asked when the trio stepped inside, "Not causing trouble, are you boys?"

Matt turned away without answering her, and Siegmund followed his steps. Oliver glanced between them and the elder. "It is more closer to trouble effecting us."

Miss Warden seemed unimpressed, but her never wavering frown deepened. "I would expect you to not get tangled with those buffoons."

"Matt and Siegmund?"

"The others. Not that it matters anymore."

Oliver's face inflamed with irritation. Without another word, he headed for the staircase. Lila murmured in worry, sensing how his usually bouncy steps turned into more jagged movements. "Ollie? She's just an old, angry wasp."

"They were not bad kids!"

She patted his head with a small hand, only managing to make a clump of auburn askew. "It will get better! Vines always twist and curve around obstacles blocking their way to what they need."

"There is only so much twisting I can do in this place," Oliver grumbled so grumpily.

"Then let's go somewhere where you can."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Oliver had to admit his mind had been on other things as of recent, rather than the Realm of Spirits. However, when he opened his eyes to the endless fog, it welcomed him. Lila flew from the grass, buzzing excitedly to be back home. "Come on!" She lifted one of his fingers that were still resting in the blue-green grass. "The others have been wanting to see you!"

"Why wait, then?" Oliver rolled around to push himself from the ground, floating to his feet. The fairy zoomed toward the valley, leaving behind a bright trail of glitter from her wings. "Hey!" He called with laughter in his voice. It felt like nothing could harm him in the Realm as he pushed forward, sailing over the grass with one bound in place of several steps.

The other fairies were not good at hiding. Despite their small size, they loved to giggle a lot. After a large slope, a vast patch of flaming orange and pink flowers spread along the mountain side. It was the obvious place were Lila disappeared to. "Oh, where could my dear fairy friend have gone?" Oliver asked aloud, glancing to the forest of green with a thoughtful hand under his chin. Not even biting the side of his mouth stopped a smile creeping on his face from the titters and "Hush!" rising in the flora.

The stems rustled, and many, tiny beings leaped from the petals. Oliver gasped, and spun around to be overwhelmed by a hoard of fairies. They pulled on his clothes, and pushed him to the flowers with their collective might. The boy laughed in delight, and let the plants take him as he settled. "Yes, yes, hello," he greeted each of the excited creatures.

The fairies plucked some of the flowers, and left others to bloom. They chose the most open and brightest ones to take, which must have been a difficult decision, since all of them were beautiful. The small beings weaved the stalks together to create a long (and apparently heavy) strand of flowers. The ends were joined, forming a wreath. Oliver gasped when they drooped the crown on his head.

"Huzzah!" Lila declared, landing in the boy's hair. "King of the fae!" Her companions cheered, bathing him in a shower of leftover flowers and glitter.

"Really, you!" Oliver could not help but laugh. "Thank you. Thank all of you. These flowers are wonderful, and very well grown!"

"I would hope so. They have been working on them since the solstice."

Oliver twisted around, eyes widening at his blond look alike. "You again!"

"What?!" The other boy barked. "The Realm is open to all who can find it."

"I was not implying it was not!" The baker huffed as his doppelgänger sank amongst the flowers. "I am just a tad taken back how..."

"We look alike? Yes, that is strange." That may have been reason why he fled Oliver with little to no explanation the first time they met, but his look alike made no remarks of it then. The other teen plucked a flower from the bicolored patch, and spun it between his fingers. "Tell me, by any chance, is the grass blue where you come from?"

"Why, yes, it is!"

"I see."

Lila asked, "See what?"

"The grass is green on my side of the fence. Did you notice how blue it becomes the further you stray from that forest?"

"Is that were you came from?"

"That is where I wake up whenever I come here."

"That _is_ weird," Oliver said. "What do you think that means?"

"They say the Realm of Spirits is the ultimate conversion point of all the universes and life." The boy's green eyes were distant on the flower he twirled. "The grass here is blue _and_ green. If mine is green, and yours is blue..."

"Oh! You are from a different world?"

"As are you!"

"Is your name Oliver?"

"No, it is Arthur. Is yours?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, mine is Oliver Kirkland."

"That is my last name."

"Strange!"

"Very!" Arthur stared with more intent. "You know, I thought I was going mad, being the only one that can see them."

"The fairies?"

"Everything!"

"Too, right?! Everyone is the odd ball for not seeing those coal tars floating right in front of your eyes!"

"Hm, we do not have an abundance of coal tars," Arthur admitted. "We have them, but they only come out at night."

"No way!" Oliver exclaimed. "Some of the coal tars at my place can withstand the daylight, and follow everyone around. Most of them keep to dark and creepy basements."

"Just how awful are people in your world?"

Oliver grimaced, pulling his legs to his chest. "Well, for starters, every time I smile, and be genuinely friendly, most people look at me as if I have a third eye!"

"You're kidding! That is horrible!"

"Are people _not_ like that in your place?"

"Oh, there are ungodly fellows, but that is everywhere you go. Even here." Arthur surrendered his flower to a fairy who asked for it, and copied Oliver's gesture with his knees to his chin. "I cannot forget the impossibly annoying twats, either, but humanity can be charitable, or greedy. It depends on the individual and their beliefs."

"Wow," Oliver murmured. "Here...err...in my place, it is expected to do things for yourself and by yourself. It may sound selfish to you, but it is completely normal to keep to yourself, mind your own business, and turn your head away to other's turmoil. Society is very closed."

Lila piped up, "That doesn't mean there are people who don't try to help others. Ollie helped one of his housemates when he was stabbed!"

"Oh really? Someone was stabbed, just like that?"

Oliver snickered. "No, that is a long story. I used a healing incantation with a birthing sigil."

"That sounds like Light Magic."

"It was."

"You do not use Dark Magic?"

"No, why?"

"I do," Arthur mumbled, and looked at his hands.

"You will hurt yourself!" Oliver lightly scolded. He eased his shoulders to whisper, "Does it hurt?"

"If I use it too much, but it is not like I try to tear a hole in the Earth or anything drastic like that!"

"Then what do you do with it?"

"Summon dark spirits," Arthur nodded, then shuddered. "I make idiots trip over their own shoes, but nothing too 'evil.'"

"Oh," was all Oliver said. He considered regretting not choosing Dark magic, but Siegmund may have not been alive if that were the case.

"Come on," the blond urged. "What do you do with your Light magic?"

"I can heal people, but I already said that. Apparently, I need it more than you do. Also, coal tars will not hoard around me, those pesky buggers. I have been trying to teleport, too. There is also the summoning of various objects, but that is Neutral."

"Does it hurt?"

"It drains me. At worse, I faint, unlike Dark magic. I heard it will make the caster start coughing up blood!"

Arthur stuck his nose in the air. "That was one time. I was being stupid."

Oliver giggled at how well his newfound acquaintance and him got along. "Do you have a job?"

"No, I am a secondary school student."

"S-school student?" Oliver echoed. "Oh, wow. We are not really big on public education in my world. You learn whatever you want to learn and when."

"Education is self-driven?"

"It may sound silly-"

"That sounds absolutely wonderful!"

Oliver gave his look alike an odd look. "You do not like school?"

"No!" Arthur scoffed. "I am sick of waking up at six in the bloody morning to deal with a bunch of morons for the sake of education! There are so many things I could be doing instead of sitting in class!" He stopped complaining to sigh. "You said you do not have schools?"

"Maybe for the very rich kids, but parents usually teach their children, or they teach themselves."

"So you do not go to school?"

"No, I work at a bakery."

"That is splendid!"

Lila said, "I know!"

Oliver waggled a finger at her as Arthur asked, "Can you cook?"

"Err...no, not really. I do not have a reason to right now. If I do not eat at the bakeshop, some kids line up food at the House for breakfast and dinner."

"The...House?"

"It is a youth hostel, so there are not homeless children rampaging on the streets."

"Oh," Arthur frowned, scratching at his head in an embarrassed gesture. "Y-you do not have a family?"

Oliver took a deep breath, and slowly let it go. "No. My father is dead, and my mother is currently in prison."

His look alike whistled. "If you do not mind me asking, are the two results related?"

"Sort of...it has to do with magic stuff. I usually do not tell anybody about it because of everyone being blind to it and all."

The blond rocked back and forth on his rear a bit. "So, what did happen, if you are willing to tell me?"

Oliver saw that coming. "To keep things brief, my mum banished my father to this Realm, since he was becoming...malevolent. He wanted to take me away from her."

"Whoa, what? Your mum did that as a punishment?"

"He was being mean! He tried to get me to be like everyone else, to suppress my own emotions to be a blah like them. Mum wanted me to be happy, the way I am."

"So, she sent your dad here so he could learn his lesson?"

"So we could be relieved by his drunken stupor. He could not keep a job, and wasted any money he managed to get on alcohol. Perhaps it was supposed to be temporary, but someone tipped his disappearance onto her, and eventually, the police got her. She could not say my father was in some spiritual plane."

"I suppose jail is better than the nut house. Who would have ratted on your own Mum? Did she have any enemies of some sort?"

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. "Hm, the only person I can think of is my father's mother. Every time she came over for her rare visits..." he shuddered. "She would not even allow her to come over to her house, either!"

"There you have it," Arthur pointed out. Oliver only gotten angry over the betrayal of his own family, but kept his shaking to himself, as much as he could with his inflamed cheeks. "The Realm easily takes its toll on unfamiliar beings. Is that how your father...?"

"Yes," Oliver seethed. "By the time I figured how to get here, his body was no longer his own."

"I understand," his look alike murmured. "You said that House place was for homeless blokes. Is that where you ended up after the bobbies nagged your mum?"

The baker nodded, and stiffened as he felt Lila clench onto his hair. "It was almost two years ago. A lot of things happened since then. I met new people, and done new things."

"You sound rather optimistic for someone who comes from a supposed cruel world."

"That's Ollie for you!" Lila chirped. She gasped as one of the speck of lights that littered the landscape lazily floated in front of her face, and shrunk into his hair.

"I would not call it cruel." Oliver lifted his eyebrows as the fairy thrashed, batting at the small ball. "Your world sounds like awful, too, how it expects children to learn what they are forced to."

"There is a lot to learn, too," Arthur mumbled. He gave himself a little shake. "To each their own!"

"Yes, what you said. Would you tell me something about yourself, too?"

The blond was taken back. "W-would you want that?"

"I asked."

" _Hmph,_ you did. All right. I live with my mum. Just my mum, since my other brothers have moved out already-"

"Wait, brothers?"

"You sound surprised," Arthur keenly observed. "Do you not have brothers?"

"I am the only child...or I think I was..."

They gazed at one another, worried and afraid. "I would not be surprised if there are major differences in families. It is a different world, after all."

"I-I suppose..." Oliver trailed off, still not satisfied. He filled in the blanks with the excuse of it would be worse, based on the way things turned out, that if he had any siblings. His mother was even adamant of getting a family pet, let alone other children.

Arthur broke his spacing, "My father walked out several years ago, and we have been on our own since."

"Your father just left?" Oliver jumped back into the conversation. "That is horrible!"

"Says the bloke whose father was corrupted by the Realm! That is worse, if not as horrible," Arthur noted, squeezing his legs tighter. "I guess my father was sick of our...oh, what did he call it? 'Spirit talk' and 'magic nonsense.' I do not think he was ever interested in raising a family."

"His lost!"

"I know!" Arthur twisted to face Oliver. "I feel as if we get along so well."

Oliver grinned. "You think so, too?"

"I would enjoy it very much so if you would meet me here again."

"Same time?"

"Of course." Arthur rose to his feet, brushing off any stray petals and grit from his cloak. "However, I must be leaving now. School comes early. Goodnight."

"Good-what?" Oliver turned to watch his counterpart head to the verdant forest. "Nice cloak, by the way!"

Lila snorted with her laughter, and Arthur clamped his hands on his hood, hurrying beneath the trees. "It should be wakey time for you, too!" The fairy patted Oliver's head. "I'll come with!"

"You heard her," Oliver told the other fairies. "We are going to go now. Thank you for the crown."

"You look lovely!" One fairy said.

"Really," the boy felt a warm wave seep to his toes. He bounded back to his usual spot, and flopped onto the grass, startling Lila from her perch, but she obviously did not mind. She situated herself beside his ear, using the same position of her hands behind her head. So much had happened within the previous twenty four hours, but he could easily say that meeting a universal counterpart was the best thing that happened all day.


	33. Chapter 32

Oliver was humming unthoughtfully to himself as he entered the dining hall. His tune died off to a noise of confusion when he realized the room was nearly empty. He immediately became suspicious, spinning around just in case someone was sneaking up on him. There were simply no other teens in the wooden food court besides a pair of girls giggling and hurrying to the doors.

"Excuse me!" Oliver called out to them.

They slowed, faces scrunched up momentarily until they noticed it was not someone unworthy of their attention. "Hey, Oliver. What's up?"

"Where is everybody? Breakfast is almost over! Did something happen?"

"You got to stop being so paranoid," one said.

The other, "Look out the window!"

"What?" Oliver's eyebrows mashed together. Sure enough, the entire landscape was dotted with white, continued with more specks flowing from the gray clouds. He groaned, "Fall _just_ started!"

"Um, fall was several months ago. Oliver, where have you been?"

"Around," the boy turned away, itching the back of his head where he could feel their stares. It was embarrassing enough to hear their snickers, even as he walked away.

"Not here, apparently."

"Months?" He mouthed. The more Oliver chewed it over, he came to the conclusion that he allowed time to slip away as skipped from the bakery to the Realm of Spirits, and back again as if he wanted the days to pass him in a rush.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

When he entered the bakery, Anabella was coughing loudly, and he knew that within those passing months, she she had only gotten worse. That day, she would not stop hacking. Oliver had to keep his eyes on the tray of muffins he carried out to the table of diners instead of the hunched figure of his boss bent over the sink. She would only chase him away for worrying.

Anabella snapped once when Oliver ignored the stove's beeping for her raucous coughing, "At least _I_ will not burn when left unattended!"

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Oliver asked in an almost monotone voice to the three customers, several men that crowded one of the little tables.

"Uh, yeah, you got any salads?"

Oliver blinked at the biggest of them all, silently cursing Americans. "This is a bakery."

"But you got vegetables and fruit to put the stuff in, right? Why don't you use those?"

"This is a bakery," the _baker_ repeated. He tried reminding himself that not all foreigners were raisin-brained. "We bake things in the oven. We do not make salads."

"So, I'm not gonna get a salad?"

"Not here."

The burly man stared at the tray of apple cinnamon muffins that his companions were greedily sucking up without chewing. "Come on, bro," one said. "Have a cheat day for that stupid diet of yours."

Oliver turned around to escape into the kitchen. "Bella..."

"Stop it," the elder tossed out a red stained towel. "I am going upstairs to lay down now."

"I will be upstairs after these fellows leave," he said. Anabella did not reply. Her jagged breathing and slippers scratched on the floor in pursuit of the stairs. Oliver listened intently to her steps, in case the stairs proved to be too slippery for traction. When he heard no sounds of a fall, he left the kitchen to prop his elbows on the front counter.

The customers came into view, making their way to the door. They already paid before they received their food to prevent run-and-goers. Oliver gave himself a little shake to be more attentive. Either they engulfed those muffins in record time, or he let himself space out again. "Have a lovely day," he called, waving. None of them reacted, and the door squeaked shut. As a method of gratitude, they littered the floor with napkins and crumbs for the baker to clean.

Oliver pelted up the stairs, looking around the unoccupied living room and kitchen. "Bella?" He neared the bathroom, eyeing the light that peeked from the bottom of the door. He opened his mouth to call out for the old woman again, but a vicious cough made him clamp it shut.

"I am-" Anabella could not get a clear statement out.

"Bella, do you need help?"

"No!" The elder managed. "Go-" It sounded like she was hacking up a lung in the bathroom sink. It probably looked like it, too.

Oliver put a hand over his mouth, and stomped away from the splattering noises of blood hitting porcelain. "You are dying!" He wanted to shout. "You do not need to do this alone!" Yet he obeyed her wishes, since yelling would not ameliorate matters.

The teen decided to go with, "I will be downstairs if you need me. Get some rest!" He was not sure resting would help Anabella at this point.

"Don't forget about Nikolai!" She managed to remind the boy of the surgeon's up and coming delivery. That meant he had to leave the bakery again, so soon, and ultimately leaving Bella alone.

Oliver lingered by the front windows, looking at the white snow turn gray and brown underneath careless footsteps and wheels. He reached over, and flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed.' Instead of worrying about customers, the boy locked the glass door, and jerked away when he felt how cold it was from the winter seeping inside. Through cracks and crevices, he could easily imagine visible fog of ice creeping from the ceiling and floor, reaching after him.

The teen sharply turned on his heel, and decided to station himself behind the counter, glaring at the snow. He kept his ears pricked for any signal of trouble, and was frightened when a little word, "Poof!" called out. The sound belonged to a weight that landed on his head. "Hey, Ollie!"

"Lila," the baker half sighed, half growled. He scrubbed his face with his palms to bring a sense of normality to himself.

"Whoa, why are you so tense? Your aura is going bonkers!"

"Bella is severely sick. I do not think she is going to last that long. Oh, there was so much blood the other day..."

"Um," the fairy struggled to comfort. "Just think! When she's dead, she won't be suffering anymore! No more icky blood!"

"I do not want her to be in pain now!"

Lila clenched onto his hair. "Well, that's dying for you."

"She deserves to peacefully let go, in her sleep, or something of the like. Not...intentionally drowning in her own blood!" Oliver dug at the sides of his head, whining in irritation until his friend pounded on his fingers. "What if I put her in the middle of a sigil and healed-"

"Nuh-uh!" Lila pulled on a clump of hair. "Remember when you helped that quiet guy out, and it felt like you were stabbed like he was? Do you really want to go through with that? There is a big difference between an external wound, and a disease that has riddled Bella's insides. Besides, it's what you said. She is old, and dying. Sunlight cannot help a flower bloom after its petals have dropped."

"Plant euphemisms," Oliver's legs fidgeted from staying in one place. "I am deathly worried, Lila!"

" _Deathly_ worried?!"

Oliver snorted, trying not to laugh, even a little. "I walked into that one. That was absolutely awful."

"I'm trying my best!" Lila proudly announced.

A cough came from above, loud enough to echo down the stairs. Oliver turned to face the steps. "Maybe I should not leave the bakery at all today. Maybe I could get Nikolai to take care of the stash with a few sweet treats-" Something shattered to the ground, breaking the boy's mumblings to a surprised yelp.

"What's that?!" Lila cried out, thrashing in his hair. "I think-"

A heavy impact followed soon after, thumping through the ceiling. "Oh, what?!"

"Go!" The fairy squeaked, gripping onto Oliver's strands for her life as he shot forward without another prompt.

"Bella!" Oliver shouted as he flew up the stairs on all fours. His eyes darted around the unoccupied living room. He hurried to the hall, knocking rapidly on the bathroom door. "Bella?" Even the bedroom and the spare room further down the narrow corridor were empty.

"Check the kitchen!" Lila said. "It sounded like the thump came from there!"

The teen rushed to the kitchen, his head tossing side to side in confusion at Anabella's sudden disappearance. He stepped around the island counter, and gasped when a sharp object crackled under his shoe. "Bella!" Oliver knelt next to her unmoving body, his hands hovering over her in uncertainty. A shattered cup of tea melded into splatters of red on the tiles beneath her, turning the warm color to dark.

Lila sounded like she was about to burst into tears, "Is...is she breathing?!"

Oliver pressed his palm to her shoulder, and with a grunt, he managed to flip her upright. He flinched when the elder's knuckles knocked against the wooden cabinet. His mouth quivered nervously, and he lowered his ear to her throat, listening for breath. At the sound of a low wheeze, he scrambled to his feet, and reached for the house phone perched on the back counter.

"Oh, how convenient, his number was the last one dialed," Oliver said, glancing at the caller identity before he put the phone to his ear. The line drawled several times, and each time, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Lila whined from his hair, burying herself deeper in rich ginger. "Come on," he chanted lowly. "Come on!"

The phone crackled, and a dull voice said, " _Salut?_ "

"Louis!" Oliver blurted, "It is Oliver!"

"What, Oliver, you finally decided to give me a call-"

"Bella just collapsed on the floor!" The boy snapped. "There is blood, and her breathing is labored!"

Her grandson became serious. "I am on my way now. Unless she is on her stomach, do not move her! You can hurt her more if you do!"

The other line clicked off, triggering a dial tone to buzz until Oliver set the phone back on its receiver. He braced himself with a jagged inhale before kneeling again to pluck the elder's glasses from the bloody tea. "Just hold on for a bit, Bella. Help is on the way. Medical help, that is," he added hopefully, and set the small lens on the counter.

Lila offered, "I can help you get this sharp stuff off the floor!"

"Be careful as you do!" Oliver warned, even though he was at more risk for legitimately cutting himself on the shattered cup. Once the largest pieces were gone, he wiped the spill as much as he could without lifting Bella's head, and threw the rag he used in the trash bin. He dug in the kitchen drawer for another cloth to gently scrub at his friend's cheeks.

The fairy dropped her last part in the trash, and fluttered over to Oliver's head. "Um...Ollie? What are you doing?"

"I am cleaning her! Do you not see this mess?" When the elder made an effort to say something, a weak grumble came out, and Oliver hushed her. "It is all right. Your grandson is coming to help you."

Anabella's eyes, unfocused without her glasses, widened, and she clamped onto Oliver's forearm with an aged hand.

"No, do not try to get up. Stay," Oliver coaxed in a sweet tone, and offered a smile, even though she could not see it. The boy twisted around to glance around the kitchen. "Any day now, you...toad," he blurted, and nodded in approval at the insult.

Lila gasped, jumping off his head in reflex to the front door slamming shut. Multiple voices filled the stairwell. "They're here!"

"They?" Oliver stood up, and rubbed his knees that wobbled from crouching for so long. "He brought his pals. Good."

"Bella!" The dark skinned woman came first, carrying her medical suitcase. However, the trio were dressed in their normal day clothes. Oliver stepped away to allow the others to crowd around her. The doctor produced a flashlight to check the elder's vitals.

Oliver distracted himself by staring out the kitchen window that overlooked the street. Vehicles and pedestrians zipped back and forth, continuing as they normally do. It was difficult to be comforted by the usual practices.

"We are going to move her to her bed," the other man announced. Oliver turned to see Louis nodding and taking Anabella by her shoulders. "On three!"

"Come on," the lady said, grabbing anything her coworkers left behind. "She will want you to be there."

Lila bumped against the side of the boy's head. "Hey, Ollie, she's talking to _you._ "

Oliver nodded, and followed the woman into Anabella's bedroom. He only grew more restless as her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He hardly registered the trio whispering and plotting. The teen settled on the edge of the bed, and watching his fingers intertwine with one another rather than gawk at Bella's nearly still form.

The dark haired man hissed, "If she wakes up, when she wakes up, she will only start coughing again. It is no use anymore. The cancer has spread to her lungs. She is going to suffer if we keep holding on for our selfish reasons."

"Let's see what Bella says first," Louis said. "Let her speak one more time, and know what she wants."

The woman put in, "Besides, we have expecting this ever since we detected in the infection. It was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, and we are not a complete loss," the other man pointedly cleared his throat. Oliver tensed under their obvious stares, and turned to scowl at each of them. "Bella may be passing, but her legacy isn't."

"What," the boy seethed.

"Bella has been showing you the ropes, right?"

Louis smacked him on the arm, earning a deserved glare. "Of course she has! I will be damned if she was ever unprepared. You would never know if she was. Anyway, he would not be here with us if she never readied."

"Which you doubt," the woman rolled her eyes, but a tight lipped smile reached her bronze features.

"I said that."

"Hurr, hurr," the other man jived, and received a distasteful scoff from Louis.

Anabella suddenly erupted into a coughing fit. Oliver pushed away from the bed as Lila exclaimed in disgust and shock. " _Grandmère_ ," Louis hustled to the bed, dramatically falling beside her, and grasped her hand.

"Louis," she managed. "You are here."

"I would not miss it."

The other man announced, "Oliver called us here."

Louis frowned as Anabella turned her head to the teen. A weak smile crinkled her eyes. "Oliver, is that you right over there?"

"It is." The mattress quietly grunted as Oliver sat on it again. He put his hand in the elder's upturned palm, and despite her clammy fingers shaking, they curled around his. "Bella..."

"I know," the old woman sighed. "My back still hurts from that fall. I am glad you are here. All of you."

The lady doctor started, "We need to discuss grave matters with you."

Her coworker snorted. " _Grave matters?_ Are you making puns now, of all times?"

She gave a little shrug. "It just came out like that. See, even Bella's laughing about it."

"Silly boys and girls," Anabella chuckled softly, so she would not overwhelm herself. She shifted, as if she was trying to sit up, but quit to cough again. "Now, I hope we all here know I am dying. There is no use in denying that."

"We know."

"Good," the elder smacked her lips. "I am not going rattle off sentimental analogies or my woes of a very long life. I just want to make sure everything is secure for the future." She slowly turned her head to Oliver again. "Young man, I expect you to take on the bakery when I am gone."

Oliver cleared his throat to get rid of the lump that tried to emerge in the form of watery eyes. "So do I."

She gave his hand a small squeeze, and faced Louis. "Remember what I told you to do, then. If he needs help, you always know what to do." A side of Louis' mouth pulled down, and Oliver internally betted that the doctor doubted that. "Do not give this boy any trouble, you hear me?"

"Crystal clear." Louis and Oliver exchanged sour looks as Anabella told off the other medical professionals. They solemnly took her waning scolds. She began coughing again, and her grandson stood up, nodding to his coworkers. "I will get you something to drink."

"Tea please," Bella said. "I never got to drink my earlier cup of Earl Grey."

"That has a very strong flavor," the woman doctor noted, and followed Louis out of the room. The other man remained, staring out the lone window shining on all small patch of grass between the bakery and the adjacent building.

"Shoot," Oliver pushed to his feet, earning double looks of confusion. "Nikolai will be here by now. Is it all right if-"

"Go," the man said without looking away from the glass. "We will still be here."


	34. Chapter 33

Oliver eagerly left the cramped bedroom. He glanced into the kitchen, and spotted the other doctors hovering near the stove to watch the teapot. They murmured too low for him to catch what they were saying, and when Louis tossed a stern stare in the teen's direction, he announced, "Nikolai has a run scheduled today. I'm going now to pay the body bringers."

"Leave the chest in the basement," Louis said. "We will pick it up later, since we are already here."

"Right," Oliver turned away.

"Um, Ollie," Lila piped up once he reached the bottom of the steps. "I am going to stay with them, you know, instead of going to the basement."

"Do not fret over it," the baker wiggled a finger at her. "I get the jitters going down there, too."

There was already a body on the table, but Nikolai and the carriers were not there. Oliver neared the corpse, eying the mess of blood coming from a slit in its neck. "How creative," he muttered sourly. He took a step away from the slab, about to turn around and glance around the dim room, but a weight falling onto his shoulder made him jump with an uncontrolled yelp.

"Ow!" Nikolai stumbled backwards, throwing his hands over his ears. "You hurt my head!"

Oliver whirled on him as snickers rose from the two boys standing beneath the staircase. "You are the one scaring people half to death!"

"Death is what I do best!"

One of the other boys nudged his companion. "I never even heard a _girl_ scream like that."

"Funny," spittle flew from Oliver's mouth, "I thought only girls giggle like that." They clamped their jaws shut, their eyes glinting in the darkness. He leveled himself with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, but jerked it away out of habit. Oliver produced his wallet, and handed Nikolai more than the body bringers deserve. "The doctors said they will pick up the cooler today."

"Oh? They are here?" Nikolai turned from the pair slinking away, much richer than when they entered the basement. "Are they looking for cupcakes?" He laughed, even if he had not intended to joke.

"No," Oliver heard his own voice come out low and grave. "Bella is dying. It is almost time."

"Is it?" The man set an empty cooler on the roll away drawer beside the metal table. He swooped down to dump dry ice into it, and his voice jumped when the cold bit through his gloves, "Maybe I should pay her a visit!"

"Maybe," the baker echoed.

"You are not going to stay and keep me company?"

Oliver latched onto the stair railing, and kept his eyes on the dusty steps. "I should really get back upstairs."

Nikolai looked down and petted his scarf. "Okay."

The boy hurried away, and nearly tripped back down the stairs when his foot caught on one of the steps. He had just made it to the bottom of the other staircase when Lila came into view at the top. "Oliver!" She called out, flinging herself to him, and almost crashed onto his head.

"Whoa!" Oliver flinched as the fairy latched onto his hair. "You could hurt yourself!"

"Ollie! I know Bella is really, really, really, really, _really_ sick, and we all want to make her feel better!"

"O-okay..." Oliver blinked a few times, confused at her outburst. He marched up the stairs slowly, almost carefully as the fairy continued to babble.

"Those people were talking about how to end her suffering, and they put something that wasn't sugar, honey, or milk in her tea!"

Oliver hesitated by the kitchen doorway, staring at the disregarded kettle on the stove. The 'hot surface' light was still on; Anabella's visitors must have had just flicked off the heat. "Perhaps it is medicine?" He weakly offered.

Lila let out a whiny sigh. "I don't trust it!"

All heads snapped in the teen's direction as he pushed open the bedroom door. Oliver's eyes jumped to the cup the lady doctor was tipping to Anabella's mouth. The elder gestured for her to lean back. "Hello again, young man."

"Bella," Oliver quietly greeted his friend, and fluttered to the edge of the bed. "How is your tea?"

"Mm, Earl Grey. It is my favorite," Bella announced with a weak smile. She reached out for the mug again. Oliver felt his throat constrict as she eagerly drank the hot liquid.

"There's something in there," Lila weakly protested. "Ollie..."

Everyone simply watched the elder sip her tea. Oliver did not know what to do. Anabella was already dying, and a hot cup of her best drink was better than many other ways of passing. The young woman set the almost empty cup on the other nightstand. His boss' eyes were already drooping. "Early Gray white...is not nearly as good..." She mumbled, and her head slouched against her pillow.

Oliver sharply demanded, "What was in there?"

The doctors gave him sour, yet surprised looks. The woman spoke up, "It was something to help her go to sleep, so she wouldn't feel anything."

The man turned from the window sill with a needle in hand. "This, however, is the euthanization."

Oliver scrambled off the bed, wide eyed as the doctor stuck the needle in Anabella's lower arm. He glanced to Louis, as if for assurance, but the dull blond was watching his coworker administer the injection. "What is this about?"

"What are you about?" The woman demanded. "Would you rather her cough a lung out, and die very painfully?"

"I...I did not know you were planning to do that, and at this moment."

"I didn't either!" Lila scolded the trio. "We could have said famous last words, but I guess not!"

"You are not going to know everything. I'd be horrified if anyone did."

Oliver turned his gaze to the elder lying on the bed. A quiet murmur sounded from the fairy. The woman dug around in her bag, and pulled out a stethoscope. She set it in her ears, and pressed the flat metal to Anabella's chest. Everyone stared with held breaths.

"What time is it?"

The other man pulled back his jacket sleeve. "Eight minutes until noon."

She nodded, and stepped away as Louis came forth. He slowly sank onto the mattress, and leaned toward Anabella. He brushed her curly white hair from her forehead, and pressed his lips to her aged skin. "Rest well, Bella. You deserve it."

Oliver dropped his stare to the floorboards, realizing it felt a bit funny to breathe. Bella was dead. Before he knew it, a line of tears tickled his cheek, and he quickly swiped a sleeve over his face before any of the doctors would notice.

"I will call an ambulance," the woman announced. "They will be able to board her onto a stretcher and take her to the funeral parlor."

"Ugh," Louis put a hand over his eyes. "I have forgotten about the entire planning of that mess."

She put a hand on his shoulder, giving the fabric of his silky shirt a squeeze. However, none of the three said anything else until a light knock on the door interrupted the group. They twisted to face the looming figure of Nikolai almost clocking his head on the short doorway. The room grew even more cramped, and the doctors that were standing huddled closer to Louis. The buggy goggles and face mask would frighten even an unmovable rock.

Lila exclaimed, "He smells like creepy basements!"

Oliver glanced down, and thankfully, the surgeon disposed of his blood soaked gloves. Nikolai tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "She dead?"

Louis snorted, his dull violets flickering to the furthest wall. "It is done. She is put to rest."

"It looks like it!"

The woman snapped, "Is there something you need?"

"Not anymore," Nikolai easily replied. "I am done ogling." He turned to Oliver, who took a step back from his height. "I will be seeing you again."

The teen weakly nodded, even if it was not a question. He felt queasy from the smell of chemicals radiating from Nikolai's odd colored surgeon scrubs, worsened by a large hand reaching out to roughly smother his hair. "Good. You be good boy."

"Ew!" Lila spat, dangling off of Oliver's shirt collar. "I'm here!" She assured the boy who patted his head as Nikolai pulled out of the room. She flew up, and resettled on her usual spot, huffing, "How rude!"

"Oliver," the woman stated, "You best be going back to that youth hostel, or whatever it is. Get your bags packed."

"What for?"

Her eyelids drooped in a blank stare. "So you can move in, duh. When Anabella says you are taking after the bakery, that means the flat, too."

"O-of course," Oliver flimsily replied. All that paperwork had added up to something, after all. He glanced to Anabella's body, not wanting to cling onto it anymore.

Louis added, "You may want to renovate the place. It is a little...retro. I have plenty of experience with decorating-"

"Yeah," the other man loudly asked, "who wants to sleep in a bed where someone died? Creeeeeeepy."

"I will be here in the morning," Oliver decided, almost giggling from the glare Louis shot his coworker. "Until then."

"Oh, good," Lila sighed with relief when the teen left without waiting for the doctors to say anything. "I didn't want to be staring at Anabella all night."

"She's gone, Lila," Oliver murmured at the top of the stairs.

The fairy was quiet for a moment. He descended, his heels clomping on the wood with obnoxious contact. "I know, Ollie, but that is a good thing. That is the way things are supposed to go."

~.~

~;-;~

~.~

Some days later, at the House, Oliver announced, "I am leaving."

Miss Warden slowly looked up from her crossword booklet. "Come again?"

Oliver shifted his weight foot to foot. "I am going to live at the bakery. Anabella passed a few days ago, leaving the shop and flat complex in my name. I have the death certificate, if you need to see it."

The elder eyed his completely white outfit, understanding where, or what he had just come from. Even Lila, before she returned to her Realm, had ordained herself in white for Anabella's funeral, despite Oliver being the only one to survey her. It was a small, yet silently powerful occurrence; a perfect closure for his friend.

"Bring it here," Miss Warden said.

The teen surrendered the folder he was carrying since he left the bakery. "In the left pocket. There is other paperwork in there, including the receipts of the transference of her funds."

"The opening of your bank account, too." Miss Warden seemed curious for once. Her narrowed eyes jumped between the papers. Most of the funds were not in his bank account. If Anabella transferred _all_ of her money to Oliver's, it would be strikingly alarming for someone his age to have so much already through legal methods. Oliver opted to keep his and her account open, at least until the last small increment was in his. "I see. Your seventeenth birthday is in the Spring. You _could_ stay another year."

"That will not be necessary."

She curtly nodded, and leaned over, producing her black book of names and information of the House's inhabitants from a desk drawer. "Kirkland, Kirkland," the old woman paged through the thick binder, making a low, "Ah," when she found him. She turned the book to face him, and tapped on an empty line. "Sign here."

Oliver glanced to his mother's signature in the space above, reading 'Guardian Signature." He averted his eyes to the line "Attendant Signature,' and 'Date of Leave." He even filled in the date so Miss Warden did not have to, and surrendered the pen and book without studying his mother's handwriting.

Miss Warden closed the book after signing her own name, and set her hands on the dark leather. "Sometimes, the children wind up in worse places than they were before they come here." Her ever frown lessened as she looked up to Oliver. "I am assured that such is not the case this time."

An expression that passed as a small smile made its way to Oliver's face. "Thank you, Miss Warden." He did not forget to swipe his folder that the elder set at the edge of her desk. They exchanged a nod. "Have a nice day."

Miss Warden looked taken back from the comment, but Oliver did not linger to see for certain. The cold, dead winter air buffeted his rich hair, and the door creaked shut, choking off the House's old smell. His eyes scanned the property, hoping it would be for the last time.

When he realized his wish, his smile broadened. The House had sheltered him from the seasons and pushed him to mature, but it was a step, and he was ready to ascend once more. The gate closed with a creak, a sharp collision of the metal latch against wood. Although Oliver listened to the sounds, he did not linger, and unlocked his boss' old car, his car. Due to Anabella, and in partial to his mother, and everyone else that pushed him, he had his own sanctuary waiting for him down the road.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

More days passed to the bakery's door swinging open to the roar of snow and cars rolling by the slushy streets. "Fucking cold..." the newcomer growled, shoving the door, but it closed on its own accord.

Oliver did not look up from the furniture catalogue he was browsing. "Apparently tact does not run in the family."

Matt's sneakers squeaked on the clean floor as he stepped in front of the counter. Electing to ignore the comment, he asked, "Are you even around the House anymore?"

"I do not live there anymore." Oliver's mouth puckered in interest at a collection of throw pillows. "Goodness! That much? I can just sew my own!" With a noise of disgust, he angrily flipped to the next page, but the thin sheets ripped in his hands.

"Okay," Matt swiped his palm over his lips, a professional at quashing grins. "I guess you're living with Bella now?"

"Bella is dead. She has been for two weeks now, I'm afraid."

"Two weeks? Holy shit."

Oliver said, "Language."

Matt's eyebrows mashed together. "Yeah. Can I get a half dozen of those muffins in that stand?"

The baker plopped the magazine onto the counter, and made himself busy. "Lucky you. These are peanut butter and jelly muffins. You like those, right?"

"Yeah, they're good."

"Okay," Oliver replied just as dryly as he wedged his hand inside a paper bag to get it open. "Where is Siegmund? I hardly see the bloke anywhere else besides your side."

A light pink broke across Matt's cheeks, but his expression was somewhat unreadable behind his sunglasses. "He's not feeling well, so he's back at the House."

"I may be wrong, but I believe a drug store would be more useful to the sick than a bakery."

The other teen dug in his jean's pocket for a few crumbled bills before snatching the bag Oliver offered to him. "I came here to get him something to elevate his mood. Keep the change."

"Oh. Oh!" Oliver did not bother putting a hand to his mouth to stifle himself anymore. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine," Matt bit back, almost facing away from him. He hesitated, and then faced the baker. "It's just him and me, you know? I'm trying, but I guess it's not good enough."

"Do not say that!" Oliver scolded with a wagging finger.

"What do you want me to say then? Everything is honky-dory? He misses his brother." The other boy glanced to the counter. "I miss mine. I don't know what to do with that."

"Matt," the baker moved closer, but clenched his hands to stop himself from planting them onto Matt's in a reassuring gesture. "They will come back. It will be a long while, but eventually, they will, and things will get better then." Urging in a softer tone, "It may not seem to do anything now, but it will be very vital to the both of you down the road a bit if you stay with him."

"Huh, okay," Matt set his jaw in a thoughtful manner. "Touching. Well, um, I gotta go...y'know, muffins. Yeah." He dug the rosy-gold strands along the back of his head as he hurried to the front door.

Oliver looked to the ceiling tiles. "That was good work!"

* * *

 _I got bloops for this chapter:_

Nikolai tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "She dead?"

Louis snorted, his dull violets flickering to the furthest wall. "It is done. She is put to rest."

"It looks like it!"

The woman snapped, "Is there something you need?"

"Not anymore," Nikolai easily replied. "I am done ogling." He turned to Oliver, who took a step back from his height. "I like ogling at dead bodies. That is why I became an autopsist."

"Wow," Oliver said. "That is not weird at all."

"No, it is not! Being dead is perfectly natural!"


	35. Chapter 34

Spring cleaning arrived after, even though Spring had not technically started yet, but Oliver felt like he had waited long enough. It took him a week of fighting himself, and even Lila, when she offered her output on her occasional visits, on what to throw away. The shelf with ceramic kittens on each of tier was definitely a keeper, but the fake plants were just dust collectors. The old bed was the first to go, and he invited Matt and Siegmund on a luncheon, tricking them into putting his new one together for a free meal. Just as the mute seemed to feel better from his partner's persistence, the new frame was cruel to rip that away with a pinched thumb.

When the blond had his back to him, Siegmund grabbed a spare instruction manual and scribbled, 'Can you heal it with that chalk circle thingy?! It really hurts.' He even added a sad face.

Oliver had written back, pointing at Matt struggling with a stubborn bolt, 'Kisses make boo-boos feel better.'

None the less, the apartment had began to become less like the old styles of Anabella's doing, and more like the modern yet light décor from Oliver. Louis would stop in, fret over the dramatic changes, and rank up the place with his cigarettes and cheap perfume. The baker bought an ash tray for the man, but that proved to be more annoying than he imagined.

" _Quoi? You_ are buying _me_ something? It almost appears that you want me here."

"I never said that," Oliver sharply dissented. "It is so that you no longer stink up my trash bins."

Despite his lame insistence, the baker refused to step above anything but banter. Of course, some lowly part of him liked the temptation to escape his loneliness, but he immediately squashed those thoughts with ones of Allen returning, only to find him with another man! If, even though Oliver loathed to think it, he never did return, he supposed he would consider, and only consider being more accepting of Louis' company. In the wait, however, he would avoid to induce unnecessary drama with himself in the middle.

Every crevice of the flat was explored, and Oliver was glad for the effort. One day, even the group of his girl pals hunted for something sweet to eat, and helped excavate that awful storage room his former boss had built up over the years. He did not have to try hard at all in persuading them; they eagerly jumped in when they asked what he was doing after he moved on from the House.

The teen answered honestly, "I am doing a bit of clearing up of some of that junk Bella hoarded. There are so many things a woman could have-"

"We aren't doing anything!"

Oliver grinned all the way up the stairs as they followed him.

Other days, Oliver could think to himself, by himself. If he did not reach and grab that suspicious can in the back of the food cabinet, he would still have a three year old container of canned ham in his possession. Although the apartment was not the largest dwelling, the bakeshop, and even the basement added cleaning time to Oliver's schedule. Between baking, delivering for Nikolai, cleaning, sometimes entertaining old friends from the House (even Flavio stopped in one day with trouble of deciding what scarf to wear), and the trips to meet a good friend in the Realm of Spirits, the days quickly zipped along, and before he knew it, a special day came for him.

The kitchen was illuminated by a lone candle, standing from the light pink icing of a confetti cupcake. It was Oliver's favorite kind of treat; him and the fairy that perched on his head gazed at it fondly. Lila broke the silence with a made up tune, "It's a birthday! It's who's birthday? It's your birthday! Yahoo!"

The boy giggled.

Lila urged, "Blow out the candle!"

"Oh, right." The room was plunged into darkness.

"I got it! The kitchen suddenly brightened with the fairy pushing up the light switch with a great heave. She immediately shot to Oliver's head again. "How old are you again? Twenty-five?"

"Not even close!" Oliver picked up the cupcake, and began peeling away its wrapper. "Seventeen."

"I was close!" Lila danced in his hair a bit. "Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!"

Oliver offered her an icing covered sprinkle, which his friend eagerly snatched.

"Are you going to see Arthur again tonight?"

"It is our shared birthday, so I would say yes!"

"Wow!" _Munch, munch._ "I hope he has the same plans!"

"Great minds think alike!"

"You got that from him!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Ow! Ow! Stop pulling my hair! All right, I did get it from him!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

In the Realm, Oliver and Lila waited in the usual flower patch for his look alike to emerge from the green forest. Tuned to the outer seasons, the other fairies left the plants to their own devices, to nurse others in different 'warmer' areas. The flowers were wilted, but somehow still retained their beauty in their quiet death.

Lila kept two neighboring flowers alive, and their stalks had twisted with one another by then. "Pretty, pretty, pretty!" It was a sore amongst the others, but Oliver left her to her own silliness.

His surroundings suddenly turned black, and he gasped against wool. "Who is it?"

"You know who." The fabric vanished, and Arthur took his place beside him amongst the drooped flowers. "Happy Birthday, Oliver."

"What?" Oliver said with a doped grin.

"Happy Birthday," Arthur repeated.

"Is that another wacky thing your people say?"

His look alike pulled his 'magic' robe over his legs. "It is not wacky..."

"I guess not! Happy Birthday!"

"Yay!" Lila cheered from amongst the grayed stalks.

Arthur managed a small smile. "How was your day? Did you do anything?" A suggested wiggle of the thick eyebrows, "Have a little fun?"

"After finally finishing all that moving and cleaning of my flat, I took the whole day off," Oliver announced, proud. "Of course, I baked myself a confetti cupcake for dessert."

"Of course! Did you get any presents?"

Oliver gazed at his look alike in wonder. "Why would I? From who?"

"Your friends!" Arthur said, as if it were obvious. He smacked a palm to his head. "Damn, I nearly forgotten. Things don't run that way at your place."

"Why do you get presents just for getting older?"

"I have no idea, to be honest. It may be an excuse to celebrate. Parties are fun."

"It was still lovely, presents or not. Did _you_ have a party?"

"My mum put together a small get together, and some of the blokes I talk to at school came over and had cake."

"Presents?" Oliver asked with a playful nudge.

Arthur returned the gesture with an equally bony elbow. "I got the newest album of my favorite band on CD. I know, it is a little retro, but I do not care. The disks beat downloading all that possibly junk quality music. Oh, and some money, too."

"Music," the baker wistfully sighed. "I wonder about that sometimes. I always have to create my own tunes."

"You do not have to," his look alike swished a hand. "Since you did not get anything...and I was thinking _a lot_ about this for a while now, but would you like to listen for yourself?"

Oliver gave his head a little shake. "How do you suppose that would happen?"

Arthur pinched his own fingers in a nervous gesture. "Y-you could listen to it through my ears. Since it is my birthday, too, your present to me could be me going to your place, and seeing what the fuss is about, if you are up t-"

"Yes! Please, please, yes!" Oliver almost tackled his friend.

"Hey!" Lila put her hands on her hips, floating up from the grass. "I don't remember when my birthday is, and I never get presents!"

"You can come with me," the baker let out a low squeal with a kick of his legs. "This is exciting! How do we go about this?"

"W-well, I am not absolutely certain. My tomes are rather vague of the ordeal. It is not a common occurrence."

"Let's make it common!"

"Right!" Arthur sprung to his feet, urging Oliver to do the same. "I awaken in the middle of that forest, so if you go there, and lay down, perhaps it will be easier to reach my plane."

Oliver jabbed a quivering arm up the blue-green slope. "There is a twisted tree trunk that way where I wake up."

The other teen nodded, but did not make a move. "I suppose an overnight stay is fine for the first time?"

"Do we stay up through the night, or spend the whole day in one another worlds?"

"Good question." Arthur put his hand to his chin. Oliver unknowingly copied the gesture. Lila purposely paralleled it. "Let's do the whole day, and the next night, we will see how it went."

The fairy cried, "What if something happens?!"

They looked at her with unamused stares. Arthur claimed, "That is the joy of magic! It is a surprise every time!"

"Maybe Dark magic," Oliver giggled. "If you do not mind, I will be going now."

"You know what to do, right? No swimming!"

"Yes, yes." Oliver playfully rolled his eyes, but then gasped, "Do not burn down my kitchen!"

"As long as you do not freak out my Mum!"

"Be careful with the coal tars!"

"Stay away from that small park down the road!"

"Do not eat anything from the downstairs fridge! It is for the bakery!"

Lila snapped, holding her arms to both boys, "We get it! You guys talked about your worlds how much? As long as you know how to act human, then I'm sure you will be fine."

"Next night," Arthur offered his hand.

Oliver accepted it with a quick wag. "See you on the other side."

The fairy laughed in loud delight, zipping after Oliver as he ran to his destination, unable to contain his excitement, either. When he glanced over his shoulder, he spotted Arthur eagerly scrambling up the slope. The trees turned from having blue tips on the edges of their leaves, to a full, luxurious jade. Apparently, the plants in his up and coming visit were of the like, as bizarre as that sounded!

He flopped where he inferred to be the middle of the forest, on a patch of bleach white dirt. Lila knocked the breath out of herself from landing hard beside his head. They shared a giggle fit with one another before closing their eyes. The environment had a different, lighter tingle to it, and Oliver found it easy to be lured to it.

"Arthur! Arthur!" A distant thump made him twitch. His deep breath skittered to an impressive snort, and he shot to a sitting position.

"Whoa..." Oliver held his hands out, getting a grip on the new, but familiar feeling of consciousness. He furrowed his eyebrows, blinking the bleariness from his eyes to stare at the back of his hands. They were clean from the storm of freckles that riddled his own. He must have successfully reached Arthur's world, based on the unfamiliar room. The entire gray walls were littered with posters of what he guessed to be celebrities and spooky décor. "Wow!" His voice broke when he tried speaking. "Agh."

"Arthur!" The door shook with a fist pounding against it. "It is nine o' clock!" The sharp voice sounded again. "Wake up!"

Oliver tried again in a lower, less bouncy pitch, "I'm...I'm awake."

"Finally. Hurry up. Breakfast is waiting."

A lighter tone bubbled from the pillow, "Ooh, food." Oliver twisted around, grinning deviously at Lila. She flew from the cushion to hover before his face. "Ollie?"

"Yep!"

"Wow! It's you...but not! I'm totally getting your 'you' vibes from Arthur's body. It's so weird!"

"This whole instance is weird!"

"Come on! That must be Arthur's mother calling for him."

Oliver slung his legs from the bed, glancing down to his tee shirt and boxers. "Has he heard of pajamas before?" Opting to ignore the cool air clutching onto his legs, he slowly opened the bedroom door, and peeked outside. A hall ran to more doors, and the other end opened to a living room. "Wait a tic..." He ambled onto the carpet, squishing the painfully familiar material between his bare toes. "This..."

"It's your old house," Lila murmured, hesitating to settle into a head of yellow-blond hair. "The colors are wacky!"

Oliver hurried to the window behind the couch, and argued with the curtains a bit before revealing the front yard. "Oh... _oh._ It is so green!"

"Ollie, the sky! The sun is yellow!"

"Do not look at it!"

"Arthur!"

Oliver gasped, and slipped away from the couch. An equally blond woman put her hands on her hips. "Your breakfast is going to get cold."

"Mum?!" The boy blurted, gawking at pigtails running to her waist, so familiar, so different. He crept closer, earning a concerned look from her. If she was the same build as his own mother, that meant Oliver stood eye to eye with Marionette in height.

"What?" Green eyes behind glasses widened. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Oliver pressed his lips in a thin line to prevent grinning so stupidly. He breezed around her, and took in the sight of hot cakes topped with _red_ strawberries, of all things! The teen tried to mimic Arthur's more heavier movements by falling into his seat, sighing loudly. His mother joined him, picking at her own food.

"Yahoo!" Lila called to her. The woman did not spare a glance to her. "Hey! Can you hear me? Oliver, she isn't listening!"

Arthur's mother softly cleared her throat, causing Oliver to glance up momentarily before dropping his gaze to his meal. The less he would speak to her, the better chance he had staying inconspicuous. However, he had to know, "What are we doing today?"

"What do we do every Sunday?"

Oliver had no idea. "Oh?"

"Make sure you wash your face and change into your suit."

Lila shuffled almost angrily in his hair. "Suit? Are we going to be fancy?"

"Uh, yes, Mum."

"Go," she said after Oliver cleared his plate. "I will get it."

Oliver opted to keep quiet, not knowing how to reply. Arthur hardly spoke of his mother. All the baker knew was that they lived together by themselves because their father walked out on them. Perhaps that was how it was; two people living under one roof, simply because they have to. It brought thoughts of missing his own mother back for a plaguing moment. He found his old room again, and skipped the facial wash, opting to throw open Arthur's closet doors.

His fairy friend reacted verbally first. "Yikes!"

"So much black!" Oliver hissed, trying to keep his voice down. He grabbed the hem of the closest shirt, and squeezed the soft material. "I suppose these are all bands?"

Lila snickered, "Look at the other side."

The teen did, and performed a double take. Completely different vests and dress shirts hung from the center pole. Ties were on a rail between the two selections. "I guess you never know somebody until you walk in their shoes." Oliver glanced down to the footwear, but did not notice anything too different, until he pushed some pants back, and let out a low whistle. He pulled out knee high, jet black biker boots.

"Woo! That's more like it!" The baker did not need to see her to know Lila was wearing her infamous grin.

Gently putting the dazzling shoes back where they should be, Oliver reached for 'suit' criteria. "What, Arthur never heard of bowties? They are very fashionable."

"Ties are nice, too!" Lila pointed to a lighter blue garment.

When Oliver sauntered out of his bedroom to nonchalantly show of to his (Arthur's) mother, she tipped her head in confusion. "Arthur, dear, that is your 'meeting the Queen' suit."

"It looks dashing, though," the teen claimed.

He managed to get a warming smile from the woman. She gave his lapels a sharp tug. "You look like a handsome young man." When he made a snooty noise that said without words, "I know! Tell me about it," her eyes narrowed in the slightest.

That day drew to a close too quickly. Oliver's bedtime interrupted his discovery of rock music, browsing _free_ art on the Internet, and gazing at the odd colors. Lila flopped onto the pillow, ready to return to her own awakening. It must have been radically different from his look alike's schedule, since Arthur's mother softly rapped on the door. "What?" He called out to her.

Rosa, as he learned was her name from fellow church goers, opened the door, to peer into her son's askew bedroom. "Arthur, are you not well?"

"What makes you ask that?"

She neared the bed, and settled on the edge. The springs squeaked worse than Anabella's old mattress. Oliver scooted away from her, pretending to be disturbed from a mother's overbearing proximity. Rosa lifted a slender hand to brush blond bangs back and feel his forehead. She let out thoughtful hum, "You are in bed so early. If you wanted to lay down, why didn't you tell me? You can talk to me if you don't feel good."

"Uh, yeah, I will."

Lila giggled, and in turn, heat of embarrassment nipped at Oliver's cheeks.

Rosa straightened, pulling away from the teen, and made her way to the door. She gripped the shiny knob, and turned to gaze at him. "You may, but I know my son wouldn't."

Oliver lifted his head, heart leaping. "Mum, what are you talking about?"

"You know what," Rosa said. "That fairy on your head has been blabbering all day. Make sure you send Arthur his way tonight. Goodnight, Oliver."

The door clicked behind her. Both bedroom occupants were stunned silent.

* * *

 _A.N.- Rosa- Nyo!England. Many people dub her Alice, but I like that name to go to nyo!Veneziano instead._


	36. Chapter 35

"Hey!"

"Hey," Oliver relayed to his look alike, awkward compared to Arthur's warm greeting.

Arthur grimaced, his expression turning frazzled. "What happened?"

"Your mum found me out."

Lila spoke up before the blond could flip out, "She was pretending all day, and just before we went to bed to come here, she spilt the beans!"

"You're kidding!" When neither Oliver nor Lila revealed that they were kidding, Arthur sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you have a good time at least?"

Oliver crossed his arms. "I have you know, I have never experienced such a foul thing such as this 'Church' before."

"W-well, yes, it is dreadfully boring-"

"The rest was wonderful, Arthur," the baker said more sincerely, and smiled with it, too. "The colors, the music, oh, it is everything you spoke of and more. Even the mini-mart cashier! I had a lovely conversation with the bloke! Can you believe he actually asked me how my day was?"

"Wow, he did?"

"That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

"He asks me everyday."

The look alikes shared a short fit of laughter. "And you?" Oliver asked. "Was it all right at least?"

"It was much better than I thought it would be. You spoke so down on everything, that I was expecting someone to jump from the ceiling and stab me in the throat. I tended to avoid conversation with the townies after some idiot blew me off when I asked where the bakery was. I sort of gotten a tad lost when I was walking around town, but everything turned out to be fine."

Oliver clasped his hands together, dancing on his toes. "Oh, I listened to your music!"

"Ah, yes, the music. How did you like it?"

"I loved it!"

Arthur was taken back at his loud answer. "You did? I did not know punk rock was to your tastes!"

"I do not have much taste in music, since there is little to try in my place."

"Yes, yes, that. I did notice it was very quiet, very reserved. Your world seemed like some place I would go if I needed a relaxing vacation from the annoyance of mine."

"Well, if you ever want to do that again, feel free to tell me!" Oliver then added, "Please!"

"Trust me, I will!"

~.~

~BOING!~

~.~

However, flash a year forward at the exact time, the look alikes were less optimistic about the ordeal. Oliver had weaseled to admit he ran a courier system, and Arthur was that punk wallflower in his school. Not deterred, they still kept jumping in one another worlds, but the sparkle had faded, and it was mostly used to past the time for the blond. Oliver still felt the thrill of music and the openness of strangers. He forgot the last time he tried to have a conversation with someone of his world outside the bakery!

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"I say no, because I mean no! I am not letting you run amuck in my world anymore!"

Oliver gasped, gripping the blue-green grass in his fists. "Why not? I was not running amuck! I am not some madman or deranged criminal!"

"You could have fooled me!" Arthur spat. "I am sick of those ungodly fellows on your end."

"I already told you, homicide is not as a big deal in my place as it is yours. As long as you do not get caught..."

"I don't care. I do not want anything to do with it anymore."

The baker tightly crossed his arms, glaring at the dead flowers. "Does this have to do with me kissing Matthew?"

"Of course it does!"

"I thought it was his brother! I cannot help that they look so alike on your end!"

"It does not matter! You should have not done it! Things and relationships are different between our people!"

"W-well, maybe it should not be!"

"No," Arthur growled, also not baring to look to his doppelgänger. "This was supposed to be a fun little experience, not a whole life changing activity. I did not dramatically change anything with _your_ life! You have no right changing _mine._ "

Oliver weakly protested, "You were the one to bring up the idea to switch!"

"Yes, and I am the one that is ending it. Go home, and stop bugging me about it."

"You have buildings with paintings on display, and vehicles that play music! People smile back at you on the streets!"

"I do, but that is my world." Arthur repeated, "People should not run amuck where they do not belong."

Oliver leaned away when Arthur pushed off the grass. His eyes started to sting from the stress pounding on his head. "Arthur, please-"

"Do not beg," the blond seethed. He stopped marching back to his forest, and glanced over his shoulder, looking almost remorseful. "You want to keep doing this so bad?"

"Why, yes-"

Just as Oliver started to brighten, Arthur spun around with a finger jabbed at him. "You will have to fight me for it!"

"I can do that!"

Oliver's eighteenth birthday was spent in his dark living room, cramming a dozen of cupcakes down his throat. "I couldn't do it," he whined to Lila, who visited for the sake of the supposed 'special' day.

"Ollie, stop. That is your seventh cupcake you stuffed your face with." Lila pulled the plastic plate that held the other treats away from him, but a hand clamped on the other edge, thwarting her attempts. "Binging will only add a tummy ache to your loss."

"I should have known!" The baker wailed, and tossed his hands over his eyes before flopping against the couch cushions. "He would have not asked me to fight if he doubted he would lose!"

"You know, you _could_ have simply walked away, and woke up," Lila muttered, dragging a finger into one of the cupcake's sloppy icing. "Light magic is not used for fighting, dummy."

Again, he moaned, "I should have known!"

The fairy flinched from the ugly wail. "You did know that! You were just blinded by your anger and greed. Look what happened! Take responsibility for your loss!"

"I don't wanna," Oliver curled up, wrapping his arms around his torso. "Ooh, my tummy is achy."

"That is also your fault." Lila pointed out. She huffed when Oliver's back did not reply to her. "Okay, sir, I'll let you mope for a couple of hours, because it _was_ a good thing to lose, but after that, you have a bakery to run!"

Oliver did not make a move to respond, and even when Lila let him an extra hour to weep, whether he deserved it or not, he was in the same position. The fairy lightly landed on the side of his head, seeing that his eyes were closed. "Ollie? It is pass the middle of the day."

The body sobbed, "He was so cute as a blond, too!"

Lila flew into the air, disturbed by the low whining sounds and the shivering. "I am going to pluck your hair out if you do not get up!"

"No, you will not," Oliver grumbled, unfazed. He felt small hands shuffle through his rich locks, and lightly tug. "Stop. Don't do that. Ow!" One of his hands clamped on the back of his head when she yanked out a few strands from their roots.

"I told you, and I am not stopping until you get off the couch!"

"Stop!" The man whined again, swatting blindly at the air. Lila was too quick, and he did not catch anything. Even when he set his hands on his head, trying to cover as much hair as possible, the fairy was small, and his openings were big. "All right!" He spat, scrambling to a sitting position. His head whirled from the fast movement, but agitation was much more animating than moping.

"There we go!" Lila settled on her usual perch, earning a flinch from her might.

"You are pleased with yourself," Oliver growled, rubbing the grit from his bleary eyes.

"That I am!" As if they were reigns, the fairy pulled on some auburn strands. "Come on! You still have to put on your day clothes!"

"Yes, mother," the teen grumbled, rising to his feet. Customers trickled in from the warm Spring weather, giving him a sense of normality with his baking. Oliver wondered if he could ever give up the bakery, and his peaceful life away from the rough world he grew up in, but did not voice his concerns to Lila, who would only gloat about his doubt.

Apparently, he was not completely back to himself, since she tossed her hands in the air after the last customer shuffled out the door. "Grumpy gums! This is getting to you too much!"

"Who says? I am allowed to be sad." He lost a friend, after all, from his own stupidity.

"I said!" Lila pointed out, "You only had a taste of that other world. You lived here eighteen years now, and act like it is the worse place to be! You could fall into a volcano! That would be bad!"

"So, you are saying I should be happy, because I am not close to any active volcanoes?" Oliver managed a very short, dry laugh from her antics. She smiled, and looked up at his face from the counter with pleading hope. "Lila, there were stand up singers, museums just for art, and encouragement for being creative and kind!"

"Uh, hello!" Lila shot up to knock a fist on his forehead. "You do have that silly! All in here! Sure, art and literature and even basic mannerisms are not popular around here, but that doesn't mean they are nonexistent! Make some of your own! Advertise!"

"It would be nowhere close..."

"It would be a step in that direction. There _are_ people out there that would enjoy it. They are just waiting for others to admit it."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Some time later, be it days or a couple of weeks, it was easy hours, although uneventful. A towering man entered the bakery, smiling a closed smile from ear to ear as he drew up to the front counter. Oliver slowly craned his head up from his newspaper, shocked how quickly someone his size could move. Shutting the catalogue he was browsing, the baker stammered, "H-how may I help you?"

The other man's cheerful expression fell into one of a puzzled pout. "Do you not recognize a common company?"

Oliver glanced down to the pale hand that pet a dark scarf wound around his neck, and his voice sent an unpleasant chill down the baker's spine. "You are almost a completely different person without your surgeon scrubs, Nikolai."

Nikolai quietly giggled in delight. "Would you make me something rich? I am trying to lure little ones to do my bidding."

"Not if you put it that way."

"No, this is getting very dangerous to do." Nikolai dropped his smile for a more narrow look. "I did not know if you have been reading the papers, but the many disappearances of the town's civilians have been getting what they say, 'Off the charts.' If this continues, you may find the police knocking on your doors."

"Great," Oliver nodded, then scowled. "They cannot find out about our secret. That is where I get most of my money!"

"As do I. All these young boys go after anyone and everyone. It would be easier for the police to find us with bright neon arrows pointing in our direction!"

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

Nikolai eyed the paper Oliver was reading. The front page was littered with pictures of missing people. "Get people who will not be missed. That is what you have to do."

"Criminals," Oliver blurted.

A smile lit up the operator's round face again. "Yes! Kill the killers, and I am certain no one will mind. I know I would not, as long as I get my guts."

Oliver bobbled his head. "I will look through this again more thoroughly," he promised. "When I find something worthwhile, you will know."

"Good stuff! In the meanwhile, I will look for new faces!"

"Oh? What happened to the previous pair?"

His company turned away, lowly snickering, "Loose lips sink ships, little one, so before we would go under, I sent them on a nice...long undersea voyage." He craned his head so Oliver could see a finger to his lips. The baker did not feel surprised at the pleased crinkle around his pale red eyes. "Fun for all of us."

"I can tell. Just make sure the next ones know what they are in for."

"I will send them to you, so you can send them out."

Oliver let out a heavy sigh when the front door clamped shut behind Nikolai. He uncertainly picked up the newspaper. The same faces on the surgeon's table, bodies marked and covered in blood in some sort of way, were staring back at him. He jumped on the idea of seeing the faces in the news that he would be glad to see 'missing,' but not missed.

With the previous boys leaving too many countless mistakes behind, Oliver wanted to start the new ones with something (someone) easier. A convenience store burglar, twice offending, was just freed from serving his time in jail. He may have not been a murderer, but he was a nuisance. The baker wrote down the details available about the criminal, and cut out the printed picture for the hunters.

He sealed the sheets in a manila folder, and held it from himself as if it were a great accomplishment. Perhaps it was, to scrub the stains from Anabella's past, since killing killers was certainly better than offing random passersby in his eyes. Oliver only had to wait for Nikolai to send in the new additions, and their plan would be set off.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"Sprinkles!"

"We are not adding sprinkles."

"But...sprinkles!" Was Lila's argument. She pushed the cylinder of dull colored pastels over, and rolled it to Oliver's most recent batch of cupcakes.

"Did they request sprinkles?" Oliver flipped the container upright, and set it back to its original spot. "No, so these will not have sprinkles on them."

Lila cried, jumping on the plastic lid, "What's a cupcake without sprinkles?!"

"That is easy. It would be a cupcake without sprinkles."

"That's horrible."

"You have had plenty of cupcakes without sprinkles."

"This is for a little boy's birthday, Ollie! Kids love sprinkles!"

Oliver let out a nervous grunt as he felt his resolve crumble. "You know how picky some people are. She may have not said anything about them because she did not want any."

"If some lady is going to cry about sprinkles being on cupcakes," Lila struggled, but managed to flip the plastic lid back, revealing the store of rainbow bits, "we can point and laugh."

"We can, but that would be inappropriate." Oliver snatched the canister, and gripped the plastic as he shook it over the icing. The fairy lunged for one of the sprinkles that bounced onto the counter, revealing her true intentions. "Instead, we will keep a straight face if or when she complains."

The bell on the front counter rung out. Lila pushed the lid back on the sprinkle container, grinning wickedly. "It must be hard for you to keep a straight face."

"I do not know what you are implying, and I am not sticking around to find out." Oliver folded the lid to the box of cupcakes before breezing into the front room. His steps slowed in confusion, expecting the mother and her child that ordered the cupcakes to be waiting on the other side of the counter, not three men staring back with equally shocked expressions. He set the box on the counter, his gaze jumping among them. "I...it is nice to see you three are still holding out with one another, despite all this time."

The front door opened before any of them could reply. A woman and a little boy came up to the counter. "I'm here for a pick up of a dozen of vanilla cupcakes."

"I have your order, ma'am." Oliver glanced down to the small child gazing up to him, his eyes just making it over the counter. "I added a little something just for you."

The child giggled and grabbed onto his mother's skirt to hide his face. The woman scrunched her eyebrows together, and peeled off the lid. "The sprinkles?"

Oliver nodded, flashing a bright smile. "Happy Birthday, little one."

The mother was lost for a moment, but managed to fix the lid and lift the box from the counter, having already paid when she requested the order. Lila fluttered from the kitchen, and rested on Oliver's head as he watched the pair leave. "That reminds me of you and Marionette. Oh, hey, Ollie, it's-"

"You're still in the baking business, I see," a high voice broke his stare. Oliver turned to the trio, catching small changes the period of absences did to them.

"You are still short, I see," Oliver easily relayed.

Luciano's eyes narrowed like a threatened feline's. "No, Lutz got tall, and he is making me look short in comparison."

Tall, and scary built, apparently. The blond suggested, in an age deepened voice, "If you want short, look at Kuro."

Kuro shot both of his companions a glare that could cause death. "Refrain from adding me to your spats."

Oliver giggled at the nostalgic feelings blooming in his bakery. "What brings you three here? I do not suppose you are hungry?"

"Nikolai sent us," Luciano claimed. "Will that be enough clarification?"

"You three?" Oliver raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. He had to agree with Lila's little "Wow." "Do you know what kind of business I run here?"

"Underground or your cover up? Or both? Really, Oliver, that old lady was always suspicious."

"To you," the baker grumbled. Bella was a dear friend. He shook his head, and folded his hands under his chin to focus on the current subject. "Did Nikolai fill you in what you have to do, or what you should not do?"

Luciano said, "We have a basic idea."

Lutz coughed, awkwardly putting in, "Are we offing people you have a grudge on?"

"Would you mind if it was like that?"

The trio exchanged amused looks. Luciano shrugged, "No, as long as we get paid."

"Yes, if you manage to get the target, bring their body back to the basement, and do not leave a bloody, literally bloody, trail for the cops to sniff, then yes, you will be rewarded. Richly rewarded."

Based on the glint in their eyes, they believed it was going to be worth being told what do by one of their former Housemates. "We consider ourselves employed, then!"

Oliver grinned, slapping his made up folder on the counter. "Of course. It is...refreshing to see you again, so soon, too." He tipped his head, and Lila automatically adjusted. "Wait a tic, Lutz, are you even eighteen yet? How come you are out of jail?"

It was Luciano's turn to lightly snoot as he took the envelope. "Grandpa's bail money. Kuro and I passed our birthdays in the meantime, so they released us. We're under watch, of course, but what does that really mean with this town's police?"

"Oh?" Oliver perked against the counter. "I-is there anybody else that was captured that had gotten released?"

"Not that I know of. All the others are there where they belong. It is a shame they have not gotten the one that started it all. Has he been causing trouble since we have been gone?"

"Not that I know of," Oliver sighed. "I have been living away from the House for more than a year now, but you should not start any, either."

The Italian rolled his eyes, but his expression was too lit up to be mean. "We will _try_ to be careful."

"Seriously, Luciano. The last pair of hunters met a cruel demise from their carelessness. This is not about squishing ants on the concrete."

"We know what we are about," Luciano claimed, turning to the door. He barked to his pals, "Come!"

Oliver stared at their backs, and let out a weak breath. "Nobody else, huh?"

"Not yet!" Lila chirped.

He felt stupid for his heart picking up to an excited beat.


	37. Chapter 36

The trio had turned out to be useful. The three of them were in the bakery's basement before sundown, clean, and without police cars piling up front. Oliver eyed the body of the convenience store robber, and his lips uplifted at the welt of red blossoming above his heart. He glanced to the long katana that hung from Kuro's hip.

Luciano spoke up, "I always had a feeling you had literal skeletons in your closet."

Oliver decided, despite the snarky comment, he wanted to keep them. He knew the trio; he practically grew up with them. From all those taunts and endeavors, he wound up being their boss, or at least their method of income. He gave them a hefty sum for their efforts.

They stared, eyes wide, at the money Luciano held in his palms. "Give us a call when you need us!"

Nikolai pulled his glove, causing a sharp, slapping noise to turn heads. He erupted in giggles from their stares. Oliver quickly turned away and called out, "Oh, Luciano, have you found somewhere decent to stay?"

Lutz and Kuro stepped from the tunnel doorway, curious at Oliver's concern. Luciano curtly replied, "We have settled in just fine."

"That is good," Oliver praised. "Have you seen your brother lately? I heard he sprung up his own boutique across town."

" _Si,_ I heard, too. He has grandpa's money to thank for that!" Luciano tossed a glance to the door. "Any other questions, or are you done interrogating me?"

One of Oliver's eyebrows twitched. "Being released from prison is a great thing. You have been gone for over a year."

Lutz crossed his arms as Kuro's eyes narrowed further. Luciano sighed, "You would think I have nowhere to go, but no, I do. I could not collect what my grandpa left in his will, being in jail and all, so Flavio was actually nice enough to bail me out, only if I take Grandpa's mansion, and he gets most of the money to start a business."

Oliver blinked rapidly, the quick words catching up to his mind. "Flavio started his shop a few weeks back. Have you been out for a while?"

"We were finding work. Still are, for something else in the meantime."

"I suppose you will not have to worry about it anymore."

"I guess not," Luciano exchanged an amused look with his housemates.

"Yoooooo," Nikolai made a spooky, drawn out noise.

"Err...I will see you...whenever," Oliver said, turning away with his fingers pinching his nose. "I will call you." Luciano did not reply, opting to rip open the door, and escape from the crazed surgeon.

Nikolai laughed heartedly at how quickly he could clear a room.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Oliver's hands were caked in flour when the phone rung in the front room. He threw his head in the direction of the doorway, scowling at thin air. Since paper towels and wipes existed, he jogged into the next room, and grabbed the device with grimy hands. "Hello, _Queen's Cupcakes_ ," he relayed, making sure his smile shone through his words. "How may I help you?"

"I'm not going to ask him that!" A muffled exclamation sounded from the other line. Oliver tipped his head, and switched the phone to his other ear. "Hey, Oliver," the low voice was slightly louder. "It's Matt...and Siegmund. He's standing next to me."

"Hello! Is there something you wanted to order?"

"No," Matt exhaled sharply. "Lutz and his pals are back."

"I know," Oliver said, shifting foot to foot as he leaned over the counter. "They stopped in a few days ago. Did Siegmund get to talk to his brother? I heard he and Kuro are staying with Luciano in his mansion on the outskirts of town."

"Yeah, that's were Siegmund is living now. He had gotten too old to stay at the House, so Lutz must have pulled a few strings with Luciano."

Oliver put a few fingers over his mouth to giggle. He pulled them back to eye the flour coating his skin. "Oops. Where have you been keeping yourself, if you two are living separately?"

"I'm still at the House. Our birthday...um, my birthday is in July, so I still have a few months to save up for a place for both of us."

"Aw, that is so nice!"

Matt grumbled something Oliver did not hear over his praise. "Yeah, maybe we'll stop by sometime, but I got to go. The phone booth is almost out of time."

"All right, Matt. Take care of yourselves. Tell Siegmund I said hi."

The other line clicked off to low beeping. Oliver pulled the phone away from his head, rolling his eyes from the lack of response. He went back to the kitchen to wipe the phone off, and to resume baking. A few months seemed to be such a chore, but he already made a year by that time.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"What?!" Luciano's violet eyes darted side to side, even though there were nobody else present in the bakery besides him, and Oliver some more days later. Lutz and Kuro waited in his car while he picked up their next assignment. "Why would you ask me that?"

"I asked you if you can draw for me, Luciano," the baker shook his head, and surrendered the envelope. "I did not ask you to relinquish pasta for a year."

"I know you didn't!" The brunet grabbed the folder, cradling it to his chestnut jacket. "I wouldn't do it anyway."

"What, abandon pasta, or sketch a few advertisements for me?" Oliver shot back, "You can keep your pasta. I am just asking you to put a pencil to paper."

Luciano stared at him, pressing closer to the counter. "How do you know I can draw? Or not," he quickly added. "Why did you ask me?"

To Oliver, that question could be easily answered. During his fling with Arthur's world, he had gotten familiar with that awful thing called secondary school, but it was kind enough to offer clubs to its student's schedules. He discovered a wild Italian proudly devoting himself to some clubs, even if that meeting about cardboard boxes was questionable in its main point. Luciano's counterpart had made marvelous murals that hung in the halls of the school, turning the bland white walls to breath-stealing works of art. The baker wondered if Luciano was capable of doing the same thing, being somehow spiritually (yet obliviously) connected.

However, if Oliver said that to Luciano, he most likely would have frightened the poor guy. He shrugged, grinning, "I had a hunch."

"You scare me," Luciano said, and an expression of uncertainty passed over his tanned features. "I suppose it won't hurt."

"No, it will not," the baker flapped a hand in dismissal as the other teen turned away. "Take your time! Art requires patience."

"Would you know?" Luciano asked, as he breezed out of the bakeshop, but nicked his shoulder on the door in a clumsy gesture.

"Would you not like to know, too?"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

In the basement, "The police officer asked me, 'Where are you going dressed up like are going to perform surgery?' So I told them, 'I _am_ dressed up for surgery!' 'There are no hospitals around here!' Do you know what I said?"

Oliver removed the half cup of tea from his face. "No, considering I was not there at the time." He looked over to his bench mate, arching his brows. "Care to enlighten me?"

"I would!" Nikolai claimed. "I told the officer, 'Anywhere can be a hospital if you are prepared!'"

"Oh?" The baker murmured after a strong silence hung in the air, not entirely sure if the other man was trying to be funny or not. He decided to let off a little giggle out of propriety, finished his drink with a loud gulp, and asked, even though he knew the answer, "How are the new recruits doing?"

Nikolai exclaimed in delight, clasping his hands together. "I wish I could have found them sooner! Especially with those clean cuts that little one makes!"

"Little one?" Oliver crinkled his nose. "Kuro?"

"If that is his name," the surgeon shrugged, breathily laughing again. Both bench warmers became attentive when the trio was suddenly there from around the corner. Kuro trailed after Lutz as the larger man carried a woman's body over his shoulder. They glanced to the duo with ever guarded eyes. Luciano told them to go on and drop off the corpse. He turned to face Oliver, his face slightly haunted.

"Hey, Oliver."

The baker tried not to grin stupidly at his expression. "Why, hello there!"

Nikolai noticed the packet Luciano clutched onto, like a child with his teddy bear. "Whatever information must be discarded, so the police do not discover-"

Luciano stepped away from the large, rubber covered hand that reached for the folder. "We did do away with the bad guy's information. Now, Oliver, if you don't mind, I need to talk to you."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. If Luciano's secret stash contained what they spoke of a few hours earlier, the Italian must have had a quick hand. Perhaps he doodled when he was supposed to be hunting, but that did not matter then, with Lutz and Kuro being capable to get the job done themselves. "Let's head upstairs."

"Aw, why does no one tell me secret?" Nikolai asked. Without acknowledgement, he cursed them under his breath, and sauntered soon after.

"I am going up to the shop," Luciano announced to his squad. "Stay here."

"Luci," Lutz choked, tossing a frightened glance in the operator's direction. Nikolai did not act stupid. A huffy whoop of laughter prompted even Kuro's eyes to widen, and he shrunk from the metal table.

Luciano started to tremble, but carried on as if he was not evidently spooked. "F-fine. Come with me, but I have to speak to Oliver alone."

Kuro and Lutz gave one another relived half-smiles. They hurried after Oliver without a word, and the basement door closed louder than necessary. The baker offered, "I can stick something in the oven for you, if you would like."

The trio looked at him skeptically. Luciano shook his head. "Don't feed them!"

Oliver shot them an equally bewildered look. "Excuse me, I was trying to amicable."

"It is a little freaky how close your baking business runs with body parts. We'll pass."

"There are no body parts in my cupcakes!" Oliver squawked, "Who would come up with such a thing?"

"You say that," Lutz said, and turned away to join Kuro in the front room.

Oliver mashed his teeth together, letting out a sharp exhale from the angry haze that attacked his face. Luciano tittered, "We are just busting on you. Do you want to see what I drew or not?"

The baker turned, mouth pursed in interest. He cleared his throat of any possible remarks, and nodded. "Don't mind if I do! Bring them to the counter."

Luciano did so, carefully surrendering the drawing to the marble. Oliver's eyes nearly popped out of his head. His suspicions were correct; even if they were advertisements, some of the sketched treats looked as if he could grab them from the sheets to eat. The other teen rested his hands against the counter, gazing at his work. "I was not certain of the colors for this one, so I duplicated it, and colored both of them differently. I tried to stay away from dingy colors, since I figured you would want something eye popping. If they are too much-"

"They are brilliant! Do you draw for recreation?"

"S-sometimes," Luciano admitted, looking shocked at Oliver's eager words. "It...it is a good stress reliever."

"Don't be ashamed. Many others turn to more harmful methods of relieving themselves from turmoil." Oliver tapped a picture of a cupcake being swathed in an explosion of sunshine and sprinkles. "I especially like this one."

"I was hoping to achieve something to your expression."

"Art is an excellent method of self-expression."

Luciano rubbed the toe of his boot against the floor. "I know. Maybe I shouldn't, but..." he trailed off, clenching his hands against the counter.

"But nothing," Oliver said sternly. He gathered the sketches into a neat pile. "Art is a marvelous thing. It can bring people together, but only if they embrace their talents." The other man was quiet, so he shrugged, "I should go and copy these. Thank you, Luciano. I appreciate your efforts. You may leave now."

" _S-si._.."

Oliver seemed to only bewilder him. Luciano stiffly left the kitchen with uncertainty in his eyes.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

On the other side of town later in the week, the baker decided his wardrobe needed some refreshing, and he had plenty of money to spend. "Wow! Are you _that_ lonely, you decided to come here?"

He stopped in the middle of Flavio's clothing department, relaying in the same tone, "Did the possibility strike you that I am shopping for clothes?"

The dark blond straightened from leaning on the check out desk, and let the comment slide with a distasteful click of his tongue. "It is about time you step away from those generic stores." He whisked around the counter, and flapped a hand to the towering racks posing as aisles. "Let's go find something suitable for you to wear."

Oliver pointed out, "Wow! That is generous of you."

Flavio shot back, "It's my job." He paused for a quick moment to snatch something off of a shelf at eye level, but Oliver did not see what it was. "Customers never put my shit back where it belongs."

"I do not seem to have that problem, but customers leaving behind more crumbs than I give them makes up for it."

Flavio managed a snap of laughter. He hung a brassiere on a hook they passed, and led the other man to an array of men's tops. "You do not have a wide figure, so let's stay away from those shirts, or else you will look like a balloon. How about this one?"

"Ooh, this is nice," Oliver pinched a dark, rippled top. "Oh, goodness, not for me, though. It is a bit too dark."

"How do you know that?" Flavio plucked the shirt off its hook. "Come on, try it on. The changing booths are by the main desk."

Oliver felt like he did not have a choice. The other man disappeared from trailing after him, but he did not dote on it. Inside the changing booth, there was a mirror available to scowl at himself. The dark material fought against the light in his blue eyes.

"Did you put it on?"

"Yes..."

Another garment flew over the door. "Put this on with it!"

"Leather trousers? Flavio, I do _not_ do leather."

"Have you even done leather before? You let your mother dress you up for too long. Find your boundaries."

"With these?" Oliver mouthed to his reflection as he stretched one of the bottom's legs. Begrudgingly tugging at his belt, he asked, "How have you and Luciano been getting along lately?"

Flavio's snappy voice stabbed through the door, "Why would you ask that?"

"Ever hear of small talk before, dear?" Oliver's nose crinkled as he wiggled into the new pants. He picked at the tight material as it pressed against him everywhere. "These trousers are strangling me in unsavory places!"

"Let me see! I know he is out of prison now, thanks to me, but he doesn't come around to me as often anymore, you know? Whatever, his lost. He has been acting bizarre lately, anyway. Jail time must have done something to that scrambled brain of his." Flavio shrugged, and his eyebrows raised as Oliver waddled out of the stall. "Quit walking like that."

"They are too tight!"

"The top really makes your eyes pop out," the blond surveyed, ignoring Oliver's near whine. "It is a bit plain, so here," he held up a sharp scarf. "To add a little pizazz." His hands were snippy and ungentle as he tugged the blue cloth until the point was going down the middle of the baker's chest. Flavio backed away, putting a hand to his chin to eye his work. "You could pull off the punk look even more if you were blond."

Oliver let out a shaky laugh as his legs danced against the smooth material. Despite being almost completely covered, the cloth revealed too much. "Maybe I should go look for my own clothes..."

"Maybe we're going the wrong way." Flavio snapped his fingers. "Based on what you walked in with, I have stuff just for you."

"Um, all right, I guess," Oliver grumbled, leaning against the changing stall door as the store owner waltzed off to hunt for garments. However, the door was open, and he stumbled back with a sharp gasp as the panel swung away. The tight bottoms restricted movement, and he fell onto his rear end. The door retaliated by swinging back to clip his shoulder. "Ouch! Oh, f...fiddlesticks, that hurt."

"What are you doing on the floor?" Flavio asked, disgusted. He had returned with light, pastel colors. As Oliver found his feet, the blond held out a light pink button up shirt. "Nice, _si_? Closer to your usual?"

Oliver noted, "There is a lot of ribbon and lace in that pile."

"What, now you don't like this style? I think those bottoms are squeezing your balls too tight. Hurry up and change."

At first glance, Oliver would think he saw his mother in the mirror, as a man. The shirt beneath the costly, velvet vest had frilly cuffs, and the garment curved in at the waist. Close to his neck piece, a turquoise bow hung pass his collar. He crept closer, raising a slender hand to the glass. However, his visage was overlooked by much bolder eyebrows, and the array of freckles was a different storm than his mother's. Smiling from his sense of independence, he pushed open the stall door.

"Look, you seem to be in your own skin," Flavio commented. "I was going for the innocent boy kind of outlook. It wards off suspicion well, don't you think?"

"Suspicion of what?!"

Flavio's green eyes narrowed in a sneaky snicker. "Don't act stupid. Come on, we're not done yet. We only have one outfit so far."

In the end, with arms full of bags, Oliver decided to be nice, and thank Flavio. "I appreciate your help."

The shop owner ripped the receipt from the cash register's printer. "It's my job," he insisted, wiggling the paper for surrender.

"You seem to enjoy your job, then!"

An angry red seized Flavio's cheeks. "You can leave now."


	38. Chapter 37

The hot days of July finally arrived. Someone bumped into Oliver's side as he crouched behind the bakery's front counter. He tossed a glance in the direction of Siegmund bent over, grasping his stomach from silent laughter, save from the sharp intakes of his gasps for air.

"Keep quiet," his brother warned from the other side of the mute. "The best part hasn't even happened yet."

"If that is the best part," Kuro murmured from Oliver's left. "Please, enlighten me, Oliver-san. What prompted you to gather here, and celebrate Matt-san's eighteenth birthday? None of us had celebrations."

"Since you were in jail, and Lutz did not have his birthday yet, so he does not get a party yet," Oliver easily shot back. He put a finger to his lips. "Hush up, now, so we can hear him come in. It will be delightful, I assure you."

The gathered group wriggled from kneeling for a long while, but tensed when the front door groaned as it opened. Heavy footsteps scuffled on the tiled floors, nearing their spot. "Oliver?" A low voice called out. Matt was just on the other side of the counter. Lutz made a cut throat motion at his brother, who's shoulders shook with laughter. "Seriously, Mundi, you were supposed to be here by seven."

Oliver flapped his hand, using the signal for the group to spring up and shout, "Surprise!" at the blond. Matt stiffened, eyes wide without the cover of his sunglasses as Siegmund twisted a cylinder container. Confetti rocketed in the air, and fluttered down in a shiny rain against the blond's confusion.

"What's the surprise?"

"Happy Birthday!" Oliver clapped excitedly, glancing side to side at everyone's awe of the confetti. "I made cake for you!"

"Did you?" Matt dumbly asked.

Oliver whisked back into the kitchen. A vanilla frosted cake sat on the wrap around counter, and he snatched a packet of candles from a nearby drawer. He emerged with the candy embedded cake, topped with nineteen candles sticking from the icing. The others backed away from the flames like wild animals. The baker set the giant treat on the counter, smiling at Matt. "Make a wish, and blow out the candles."

"Why would I do that?"

"That is what you do at birthday parties!" Oliver insisted, taking a step back from the fire. "Quick, before the wax gets onto your cake!"

Matt appeared to be lost for a moment. "What kind of wish?"

"Do you not know what wishes are, dear?"

"I do," the rugged blond muttered, and studied the flames with a crooked mouth. "So, I just...blow them out?"

"After you make a wish, but do not tell us! It will not come true!"

"That's stupid."

Lutz said, "That's not true. Unless there are little fairies flying around, bent on ruining people's wishes, there is no logical reason that vocalizing his desires will guarantee them from not coming true."

"It is a tradition," Oliver urged with a swishing hand. "If anything, fairies strive to fulfill wishes."

Instead of listening to his supposed nonsense, the bakery suddenly snapped to darkness as the flames blown away from a long drawn out wheeze of air. Everyone clapped politely. Kuro flicked the lights to their full brightness as Siegmund rubbed Matt's back affectionately. The blond seemed pained, unless that was him trying not to smile like a happy fool.

Oliver emerged from the kitchen with a stack of plates and a huge knife. Just when the party goers eased and congratulated Matt, they gawked and backed away from the sight of the smiling baker wielding a glinting blade. "Why are you all looking at me like that? Do you _not_ want cake?"

"Fuck yeah, I want some cake," Matt said. "It's my birthday."

A short lived bout of snickers rose from the group. Oliver's grin widened as he held out a paper plate topped with a (un)healthy slice. "The first piece is yours. I hope you like marble. I could not decided on chocolate or vanilla."

"Both," Matt declared, putting his brother to shame with how much he fit into his mouth without choking. "Both is always good."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Luciano asked the others once they clumped together at one of the tiny tables, "For a nineteenth birthday, what's the excuse?"

Lutz put in, "Final year of being a teenager?"

"I thought once you become eighteen, you are classified as a legal adult."

"It still has 'teen' at the end, though."

Matt asked, "Okay, for twenty?"

Oliver pointed out, "You are finished with being a teenager."

Kuro pushed away his third, half eaten slice, and groaned as he clutched his stomach. Siegmund eagerly took to polish the abandoned plate. Matt tipped a pocket of pop rocks into his mouth, a present courtesy to the baker. "That's carrying out the previous birthday's cause."

Luciano tipped his head. "That is just another reason to throw a party."

"Like that's a bad thing?" Matt hung his mouth open so the candy crackled loudly.

"I didn't say that," Luciano glanced to Oliver in the corner of his eye, earning a curious look. "I wouldn't mind more parties."

"Are we going to go home now?" Kuro quietly inquired. "It is getting rather late."

"I suppose," the Italian sighed, and rose to his feet.

Matt stood as well. "That goes for us, too."

Siegmund was trying to gather the empty plates for the garbage bin, but Oliver shooed him away. "Away with you. I can clean up my own bakery."

Luciano seemed to struggle with his jacket. Lutz tried offering help, but the brunet snipped, "The car is going to be hot! Get the air conditioning turned on." Kuro just stared at his housemates until Lutz followed after him. "Oliver."

Said man looked up from wiping the table. "Is there something you need?"

"Did you make all this up?"

Oliver's tone was sharp, "What, did you not enjoy yourself?" He scrubbed the table more vigorously.

"No, no!" Luciano hissed, tossing a glance at Matt and Siegmund exchanging pleasantries by the door before they would go separate ways. "I did. I was just wondering if that is something people do that I didn't know about."

"Luciano," Matt called, "Siegmund is wondering if you are coming or not."

Luciano's lower lip slid out in a slight pout, still confused. Oliver rested a light hand on his shoulder, assuring, "If there is anything you want to talk about, you can tell me. I will listen."

"Uh, _si,_ " the other teen stumbled away, double taking to the baker as he moved to join his housemates.

Oliver wondered if he corrupted people. The door shut, and he thought all the party goers were gone as he dumped the used paper towel in the trash, until a low voice rasped, "Oliver."

He jumped, whirling on Matt. Everyone seemed to want to talk to him! They should have, thanking him for the lovely party he set up, after all. "You haven't left yet? Did you want to stay and keep me company?"

The blond's mouth pulled down as Luciano's headlights flashed, and drove away. "I haven't had many reasons to celebrate my birthday, our birthday. Allen was always the one to drag me to get milkshakes on this day with the money we managed to save up."

Oliver's fight with the chair against the table legs ended with a gasp, "Oh, how cute!"

Matt grunted, and flicked his ponytail over his shoulder to distract the blush rising to his cheeks. "What I'm saying is, why don't we celebrate when my brother comes back? We can join that with everybody's prison release."

"Matt, is that what you wished for?"

"I-I thought you said I shouldn't say it aloud."

"That is something to tell children, dear."

"Then why did you tell all of us that?!"

Oliver shot back, "You had fun, did you not?"

Matt clenched his jaw for a tense heartbeat. "Seeing Lutz came back, and how it affected Siegmund...he never smiled so much before. I wished my dumb brother to come back, so we can get milkshakes. It's been too long."

"So do I," Oliver quietly admitted. The bakery was too quiet, and he could not fill it up on his own. "However, I will leave the milkshakes between the both of you."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Summer lolled along, and Oliver was startled by a random phone call in the middle of the day he had the bakery closed. "Oliver," Luciano's voice was hushed on the other line, "You said I can come over and talk about stuff. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go over there, and talk to you, so...yeah! I'll be over in a half hour!"

The baker slowly took the device from his ear when the other man hung up without giving him a chance to refuse, if he were going to. It was good that the bakery was closed that day. Oliver fired the stove for two cups of tea.

Once he arrived, and settled, Luciano stared at his mug as if it spelled out what he wanted to say. There was only milky liquid, halfway drunk and growing colder under his sharp violets. Oliver sat across him, shaking the foot bent over his knee. His humming only faded to partake in his own drink. "You can start whenever you like."

"I don't have to pay you for the therapy session, right?"

Oliver considered what to say. "Would you? Ha, ha, I am just being silly. Of course not...well, not money-wise, at least. Pay me in your words."

"Oh, how kind," Luciano murmured.

The baker prompted, "What troubles you?"

"Um, everything? I have to stow my art supplies and musical instruments in a closet at my house. There are not nearly enough pieces to base my works on, anyway."

Luciano was starting out small. Oliver nodded to the beat of his bouncy voice. "The world is your base, dear. Do not be afraid to use it. It is there for a reason."

"Aside from that, nobody sings. It's just so sad," Luciano's voice wavered. Oliver arched his brows in surprise. Clearing his throat as he scowled at the table, the brunet claimed, "Even if you go and try to be a kind person, and talk about that stuff, everyone is too arrogant to listen. They always look at me like I'm some kind of freak. I try, Oliver. I try to be patient and understanding, but they're so..."

"Afraid?"

He stiffly nodded, and his mouth quivered as moisture pooled in his eyes. "I don't know what to do. How to help them, how to help myself. I'm scared, too. It feels like I'm alone, but I'm surrounded by p-people-" He broke off to a sob, shakily gasping as drops pattered on the table.

Oliver knew to wait until everything came out. Luciano blubbered, his hands balling into fists against the tabletop. "Why? Why can't everyone get over themselves? You can't even say hello to someone walking on the streets. I wish I could get over _myself_. It would be so easier if I were like them instead of being the airhead like Flavio says I am. He says I shouldn't dream, and I-I think he is right, but I can't help it."

"Luciano, hush," Oliver reached over to put his hands on the other's fists, generically soothing, "It is going to be okay."

"It is really?" With a loud _hic,_ a large tear ran down Luciano's cheek, and plopped on the smooth surface. "I can't let Lutz or Kuro be know about these...awful things! They'll think I'm weak!"

"You are not weak," Oliver sternly told him, making sure to hold Luciano's gaze, even through blurry eyes. "There are many kinds of strength. To think differently from the norm is a feat in itself!"

"No, I'm just a rotten meatball hiding in a delicious bowl of pasta."

Despite the odd idiom, Oliver insisted, "You are not a meatball. You are Luciano."

"And what's that mean?"

"That means you are your own person, with your own ideas, your own thoughts, and own feelings."

Luciano made an attempt to catch his tears with his jacket sleeve. "I-I just feel like that I can take a long vacation, far, far away from it all, and never want to come back, but I don't want to be on my own anymore."

Oliver bit into his lower lip as he slowly retracted his hands. "Luciano, what if I told you that you do not have to be alone?"

The other teen blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes. "What do you mean? I don't think Kuro and Lutz would like me telling them these things."

"Of course they won't. Perhaps they would take it better if someone else told them."

"Really? Who?"

Oliver uneasily smiled, hoping he was not doing something brainless. "I know somebody who would appreciate the company. I think you two would get along splendidly. He likes art, and pasta, too, maybe more than you do."

"What?" Luciano seemed to take most offense from that. "No way! Who is this person? Where can I meet him?"

"Luciano, I am going to tell you something out of this world," Oliver started in a lower voice. His visitor leaned into the table, the edge jabbing into his chest. "Listen to what I am about to say before you start calling the closest mad house."

The Italian considered that for a moment, his mouth pressing to a thin line. "I'm listening."

"There are others...living as we are, but separately, in many forms and planes of existence. Universes linked and overlapping in some ways, achievable through different methods-"

Luciano blurted, "Is your friend an alien or something?"

"I said listen!" Oliver warned. The other man eased back into his chair. "People from different universes can contact one another through the Realm of Spirits, which is the converging spot of both our place and a place similar to ours, but different in many ways that I believe you would enjoy a lot."

"Okay..."

"However, this...meet is only accessible in your unconsciousness." Oliver noted the way Luciano's eyebrows knitted together, getting lost in an open mind. "Your dreams are the gateway to these other universes, especially to this one parallel to ours. You can meet your universal counterpart...in your dreams."

"Oliver," Luciano snapped, the dazed expression sharpening to anger, "are you trying to make a joke with me?!"

"I am serious!" Oliver barked back. "When I say in your dreams, I literally mean you roam around in your sleep! You can meet this person in your dreams!"

Luciano settled in the chair again, narrowing his eyes. "How do you know this? Are you making this up? Are you on drugs?"

"Am I...Gosh, what? No!" Oliver was growing impatient. "I have been there. I met my counterpart, and stepped into his world when he expressed his wishes to do so! It was through his body I had to live through..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I do not want to give away all the great surprises, if you mind."

"Even if this is all real, if I can go to dreams and universes through my sleeping unconsciousness, how can I possibly get there?"

Oliver tapped his index finger to his own lips. "It was rather easy to switch. It felt natural. I would say a healthy, deep sleep will definitely do it. Maybe a summoning incantation to send you off...the veil needs to be ripped on both sides in order to meet face to face..."

All Luciano could manage through his ramblings was, "What?"

"Luciano, we are going to need to do some voodoo magic stuff for this. I need you to come upstairs with me."

"Magic who what?" The other man echoed, but Oliver did not leave him a choice other than uncertainly following him to the stair case. "Fine, but I have to be back before sunset! Lutz locks the house up, and I forgot my house keys at home!"

Oliver wound up giving Luciano a potion (so cleverly disguised in an alcohol flask), which included the concoction of deep sleep, and enlightenment, to stimulate the mind as it drifts further from its body. His company was more worried about the container the dark liquid sloshed around in. "Where did you get this?"

"Do not concern yourself with that. Just drink your elixir a few minutes before bed."

"If you poison me, I'm going to be mad!"

"You would be dead, if it were poison. Which it is not. Go on, now, before you get locked out of your own house."

As Oliver watched Luciano hurry down the sidewalk through his front windows, he wished him, "Sweet dreams."


	39. Chapter 38

_Author's Note- Some of the dialogue coincides with the dialogue of It's a Beautiful World. This is intentional. You do not have to read IaBW to understand what is going on for this story, and visa versa. However, if you want Feliciano's/Luciano's POV, reading IaBW will give you that. :)_

* * *

Luciano wound up calling the bakery's phone the next day. "Hey, Oliver, is it all right if we drop the thing off a little early? I have plans for this afternoon that I do not want our business interfering with."

"That is perfectly fine," Oliver assured, flapping his hand, even though it was not viewable over a phone conversation. "Nikolai comes early to relax anyway."

"Good, we'll be there to pick up the information soon."

"Luciano wait." When the dial tone did not ring out, Oliver took this as the other still listening. "How was your night?"

Luciano was quiet for a few moments. The baker glanced at the small screen, but the call was still ticking. "I'll tell you about it when we drop off the stuff."

A dreadful tone relayed in Oliver's ear, signaling the end of the conversation, for now. Oliver set the phone back on its receiver, and a mischievous grin moved across his face. "I look forward to it."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"You're creepy," Lila told Nikolai once they settled in the basement.

Oliver lifted his gaze from the pressed dirt floors. The other man drummed his gloved fingers on his lap, humming obliviously. His stare turned to the baker, tipping his head in question. The teen then realized he was staring, and nervously giggled.

"Creepy!" Lila repeated. "Hey, Ollie, ask him why he wears those funny glasses. Ollie!" She tugged on his hair when ignored.

The baker loudly cleared his throat, glancing to Nikolai again, who was still facing his general direction. "If you perform autopsies on corpses, why do you wear those goggles?"

Nikolai dove into a light fit of laughter. "Is that what was on your mind?"

"No," Oliver wanted to say, but kept quiet.

The man tapped the plastic frame. "The dead seem to like to fight back. Fluids can fly in unpleasant places."

"It is a safety precaution," Oliver murmured, apparently to thin air.

"Still creepy," Lila said, rustling around on his head. "I can see myself in his glasses!"

"You are down here early," Nikolai observed. "Did you decide to keep me company?" He reached for the ribbon looped around Oliver's neck. "Where is your bowtie?"

Oliver bristled, and his grip increased on the bench from both hands as the neat bow was undone. The operator noted the vile scowl, and sniggled. "It is upstairs in my bedroom drawer. I do not need to wear one all the time."

"You are here early," Nikolai relayed.

"I know," Oliver fixed his ribbon with sharp tugs. "Luciano wanted to come early. He has things to do later."

"Ooh, things."

It was then when they caught the sound of multiple footsteps echoing through the tunnel. Oliver rose to his feet, taking a step away from the surgeon while his head was turned to the newcomers. As usual, Lutz was first to be seen, easily holding the body, and closely trailed by Kuro, then Luciano. The Italian slowed to face the baker, and with a mere uplift of the lips, they greeted one another. He continued after his housemates when Nikolai stood.

The dead man on the table had a hole in the side of his head; a gunshot wound. Lutz was the only one with a (visible) holster. Once paid, Luciano gently ordered to his companions, "Once we get upstairs, go wait in the car."

"Conspiring with Oliver again?" Lutz tried. He shrunk away when Luciano burned him with a child faced pout, but he backed off, muttering for Kuro to follow him upstairs. Ever quiet, the other man sensed the mood and choose not to speak.

Luciano clasped onto Oliver's elbow. "Come, let's go upstairs," he whispered excitedly, too low for Nikolai to hear. The surgeon was focused on digging around his bag of medical tools, anyway.

"I take it you had a good night?" Oliver asked once the basement door shut behind them.

The other man ducked his head to peer into the front room. The others were just stepping outside. He quickly turned to Oliver, eyes wide to match his smile. "Oh, _si, si!_ A very good night. It was so strange, ve," Luciano coughed to cover the tick. "The dream world is this giant void, and there were these little lights, and these big lights at the end of this weird tunnel room, and-"

As Luciano described his fateful meeting with his counterpart, Oliver nodded in beat. What he experienced was different, but he assumed it was because he and Arthur first went to the Realm, already in their minds, before switching. Luciano dove right from the conscious world. It appeared that Feliciano charmed his look alike with never ending smiles, and now he could not stop smiling.

"-it turns out, he wanted a friend, too. He's so easily swayed, it's wonderful. The sudden mood swings were a bit overwhelming, but at least it makes him easier to read. I won't have an issue with him. You should have seen me. I was so cool!"

"That is lovely, Luciano. I am glad. I really am."

Luciano glanced to his car again. Kuro and Lutz were not in sight, most likely already in the vehicle. "I should go now, before they drag me out. I have plans, anyway."

"Okay, Luci," Oliver nodded, grinning. "Enjoy your plans."

The other man's eyes narrowed as his smile proved relentless, making for a frightening expression. "Oh, I will."

A light voice asked from his head, "You introduced Luciano to his other worldly counterpart?"

Oliver blinked in surprise, caught up with the moment enough to forget about Lila observing everything. He was so used to her weight, he only noticed it if he thought about it, or when she pulled on clumps of his hair with impressive might. "He needed it."

"Look how it ended with you and Arthur. His pals will be demanding answers from you if Luciano gets all mopey like you did."

"If they find out," Oliver raised a finger. "They should not be doing what we did, anyway, with the switching and all that awful arguing! This is a casual introduction, fun, like I had with Arthur, without that...incident."

Lila muttered, "Yeah, here's to hoping."

~.~

~THISISITYEAHBOY~

~.~

Days passed, and nothing of the unusual happened. Oliver was expecting the trio to come by and pick up information of the newest target. He also worked on icing a batch of sugar cookies before the customer came by to pick them up. The plastic bell on the front counter rung, and he growled in light urgency.

"I shall be there in a jiffy!" The baker called, quickly setting the cookies into a bag. Leaving the sack on the counter, he peeked out of the doorway to see which of the two kinds of visitors were in the front room. "Greeting, Lutz, Luciano." He smiled at the brunet, but Luciano only gawked at him with a near frightened gaze. Oliver lifted his eyebrows in realization of the absence of one of the housemates. "I can see Kuro is not with you two today. Are you here to pick up your order?"

Lutz barked, "Why else would we be here?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. Someone obviously did not get up from a comfortable bed. There were plenty of other things to do in a bakery besides obtain a hit list. "I will be back," he told the duo, and breezed into the kitchen for the envelope. He rolled up the bag so the heat would not escape from the cookies, and snatched the folder off the counter.

When he reentered the front room, Luciano was giggling, most likely from embarrassing Lutz, based on the pink blossoming on the blond's face. Oliver held out the envelope to the Italian, who turned his head and stared at it in confusion. He hesitantly took it, and flipped the folder over as if something were different about it.

"What's this?"

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed. "Your job. Make it clean this time, boys." That gunshot wound on the previous body dripped everywhere, and Nikolai left without taking care of the splatters. "I am not mopping up any trails today...literally."

Luciano echoed, "Trails?"

Lutz's nose crinkled. "We should be able to get it done by the time Kuro finishes job hunting." He glanced from his housemate waving the folder in front of his face, to Oliver watching the jerky movements. "We are going now, Oliver."

The baker spared Lutz a smile. He would not see it anyway, as he turned around and ushered Luciano out the door. "I will be waiting!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

When the duo returned, Nikolai and Oliver were in awe at how well handled the body was. "Ah, nearly mint condition," the surgeon smoothed the corpse's dark hair from his forehead. He turned his buggy goggles to Luciano, whose eyes jumped from him to the dead man. "Boo!"

Luciano gasped, and backed away, twitching again when his shoulder blades hit the wall. Oliver scolded Nikolai, "That is not necessary!"

The operator's shoulders shook with his spooky laughter. Luciano stammered, "Um...I need some air!" He spun around, startling everyone as he ripped open the basement's lower door, and darted through the tunnel at an incredible speed.

Lutz allayed any bewilderment with, "The chemicals were getting to him." He did not wait for a doubt, following after Luciano not as nearly fast as he left.

Nikolai laughed ghostly again, and Oliver could feel his gaze on him as he stared after the duo's departure in obvious worry. "Looks like no conspiring for you and the scaredy one today!"

Oliver scowled at the surgeon, even though the looks never had an effect on the large man. "No, I suppose not."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Later that night, Oliver flipped the open sign to its closed side, lightly sighing at the prospect of the end of the day. It may have been a bit too early to close up shop, but the summer evening was not promising. He had not cleaned up from the morning batch of cookies, leaving the mess for a time such as then to take care of it.

The shop was quiet besides whenever the baker lifted something to wipe under it, and set it back on the counter. Lila had woken up to the Realm, leaving him by himself. Once the mess from before was clean, Oliver brought out new supplies, guaranteeing a new spill. He had nothing stimulating to do, anyway, besides sewing, so he decided to get ahead by mixing a batch of purple velvet cupcakes for the display case.

He spent the time during the baking process to whip up an icing necessary for a reserved cake order for the next day. The oven beeped, signaling to be opened, and let the delicious, rich scent of the dark cupcakes to invade the kitchen. Oliver deeply inhaled, smiling at how mouth-watering they smelled.

"I ought to be careful. I may just eat them all up myself!"

For another quiet moment, used to add another pinch of sugar to the icing, the bell on the front counter rung. Oliver lifted his head from dragging a finger along the sides of the bowl. His eyebrows furrowed at the prospect of someone _not_ noticing the _closed_ sign.

"I must have forgotten to look the door," he admitted aloud. Louder, he announced, "The bakery is closed for the night!"

"We need to talk," a voice that usually came low, was sharp with volume.

Oliver peeked out of the doorway, popping his icing covered finger in his mouth before speaking to familiar faces. "You are back? Three of you this time." He was inwardly relieved to see Luciano's group was whole again. He tried something funny to the man that looked to be forever pissy. "Hello, Kuro."

Kuro did not appreciate the way the baker's finger made a popping noise when he removed it from his mouth. He put a hand to his eyes, not watching him nonchalantly wipe the digit on pale slacks. "Ugh."

Luciano kept staring, and Lutz sighed. "Are you available at the moment?"

Oliver's bottom lip stuck out at the strange behavior. "Hm, no." He smiled from their unamused stares, and whisked back into the kitchen. A fresh batch of still warm cupcakes could cheer anyone up. "But I baked cupcakes!" He announced, setting the tray on the counter. Luciano and Lutz gawked at the treats, but Kuro was still steamed. "They are purple velvet, your favorite!"

"Can you not do that?" Kuro snapped, still not facing the treats.

"Do what?" Oliver wondered what _really_ got into their pants that night. He shrugged while they all fell silent, and took the opportunity to tackle his new mess. He put wrap over the bowl of icing, and once again, wiped the counter. Luciano's voice was extra whiny, and whatever he was crying about, the baker let off a little giggle. Throwing out the paper towel, he turned back to the front room.

"-not knowing," Lutz grumbled.

"Kitchen's clean!" Oliver announced, trying to get their attention again. Luciano was gawking at something on the ground. One of the cupcakes in the tray were missing. Much to his horror, the two coincided, based on the heap of dark purple on the tiles. "I just swept this floor." Then, they dropped a cupcake (which he proudly worked to make) onto his clean sanctuary, not making a move to deal with it.

A furious haze seized Oliver' face, and his tongue lashed before he could stop it. "You three have no respect for other people and their hard work!"

Lutz glared right back. "We are not here to be lectured." He roughly grabbed onto Luciano's jacket, and made his housemate face the counter. Oliver was taken back from the interaction. He wondered why Luciano did not start wielding his switch blade yet from the treatment. "We have more dire things to worry about."

They have noticed the Italian's odd behavior, too. Not lingering on the cupcake, but still sticking out his tongue so they know they did wrong, Oliver tipped his head. "What? Is something wrong with Luciano?"

"That is something we don't know," Lutz exchanged a dark look with Kuro, "but the question is what is wrong with what he left behind."

Before Oliver would ask what they were getting at, Kuro held a hand toward Luciano. "He keeps emitting these awful sounds, and cries way too much."

Luciano may have needed an undisturbed sleep. Oliver felt drained whenever he visited the Realm many nights in a row. Not like he could tell them that, though. "Perhaps you should see a medical examiner for sudden changes in mood."

"Feliciano-san here keeps blubbering about worlds, dream voids, and colors!" Kuro insisted. The brunet flinched. "Doctors will not help us."

Oliver's eyes widened as he gazed at the Italian. The other man let out a low whine, trying to shrink against Lutz's arm. "Did you say Feliciano?" The baker gasped in realization at why Luciano was acting so differently. He bustled around the counter to get closer, latching onto Luciano's jacket to peer at his face. Even his facial expressions were held differently. No wonder Arthur's mother found him out so easily! "I see now! Your eyes shine with a different light I could never forget! You are from that alternate color universe!"

Feliciano cried out again, trying to shake off Oliver's hands. Oliver let go when Lutz groaned loudly and slapped a hand to his forehead. "Not you, too!"

"So, can you help us get rid of him?" Kuro asked almost urgently. "You like playing with these supernatural things. Will you be able to send him back and get Luciano-san into his own body?"

"Why would I do that?" Oliver scoffed, slapping an offended hand to his vest. He then smiled as he lifted the other to affectionately squeeze Feliciano's chin. "Having one of the counterparts in our presence will be delightful!"

Feliciano wailed again. The loud noise made Oliver take back his own hand. The Italian did not seemed to be happy at all being in a different universe! Kuro stamped a foot on the ground, declaring, "That right there! That is why we need to get rid of him!"

Oliver watched Feliciano sniffle and wipe a sleeve over his eyes. If Luciano and him switched places like he and Arthur had one, why was he in hysterics? "Feliciano, did you and Luciano _willingly_ switch places, or did he force you into his light?"

Violet eyes blinked to clear themselves. "You know about the lights and stuff? Luci and I jumped into each other's bodies before out of curiosity, but he wouldn't let me go back to my own place!"

That was _not_ supposed to happen. What was Luciano thinking? Oliver tried to comfort him by patting his head, but more tears spilled from Feliciano's eyes. He knew the answer; he had gone through the same thing, but now Luciano was in his counterpart's body, and would not let go, based on the crying. "You poor thing. He is just frightened," the baker told the others. "Being deposited in a whole other universe is not the most pleasant experiences."

One of Lutz's eyebrow's rose. "And you would know?"

Grinning from fond experiences, Oliver claimed, "Why, yes, of course! It is like Kuro said, I fancy the supernatural."


	40. Chapter 39

It was out in the open now. "It all started when I stumbled across all this talk about parallel universes in some of my tomes," Oliver announced. "There are so many different planes of existence, and to make it uncomplicated, the one where Feliciano originated from is accessible through the dream plane." Since he was speaking to people who could not feasibly access the Realm of Spirits, he narrowed the talk down. "Each person had a different place for their mind-" not true for him, "-and only the parallel people are able to switch places."

The trio stared dumbly, making the thinking process obvious. Kuro was the first to speak, "We should sit down."

After a long day, a chair sounded lovely. "Good idea!" Oliver grabbed Feliciano's elbow to guide him to one of the bakery's tables. Not seeing a reason to stop, he continued, "So anyhow, there needs to be cooperation of both sides." To exemplify the tweaked tale, since he wanted to keep the subject of the Realm out of the way, he lightly fibbed, "That is how after many weeks of hopelessly waiting for some obscure chance of my counterpart discovering our plane, I stumbled across this alternate world." He put his hands on his cheeks, sighing in fond memories. "Arthur was the one that came to me."

Technically, it was true. Arthur popped into the Realm of Spirits before Oliver had done that sickly afternoon. "It seems like yesterday that he said his first words to me, 'Where the heck-' omitting foul language- 'am I?"

Lutz growled, "How does this relate to getting Luciano back?"

Oliver raised his head when he stared at a scrape mark on the table. "Oh, pardon me. As I said, the connection must be made by both sides. If one of the people die, or the dream becomes forgotten, corrupted, or even destroyed, the other will be able to go back, but there would not be anything there, just an empty void." In his case, Arthur would not be present in the Realm, and he would not be able to go to the odd colored world. "It seems that Luciano severed the connection while in Feliciano's body."

Kuro prompted, "So?"

Oliver's nose crinkled at the hand he swished at him. "I am afraid that Feliciano is unable to return to his world unless Luciano comes back."

Feliciano drew a sharp breath, gripping the table. Everyone's eyes landed on him as he cried, "No!" He scrambled out of his seat to get away from them. "I can't stay here! This world is a nightmare!"

At least, there were no active volcanoes nearby. Lutz crossed his arms. "Excuse you, it's our world." Kuro nodded in agreement.

The Italian held out a hand to point, "Look how weird you guys are!"

Kuro turned to Lutz. "According to Feliciano-san, we are the weird ones."

Oliver could not help but laugh a little at that. "I think it is more understandable if you ever experience his world through your own eyes, or shall I say the eyes of your counterpart?"

Lutz gave his head a small shake. "What is all this hype of the other world? What is _so_ amazing about it that made Luciano leave us?"

"What is not amazing?" Oliver asked, mostly to himself. "There is free art. There is no fear to laugh and show happiness. Not to mention the grass!" That wonderful, vibrant, stunning color, so much like his own counterpart's eyes. It was not fair.

"It's green!" Feliciano put in excitedly, only for realization to set in, and snap Oliver from his petty thoughts. There was no green grass in this world. "I made myself sad."

Oliver reached up and rubbed the Italian's back, urging him to sit down again. "One of the most luscious greens I have ever seen. You would never find a vibrant color like that here."

"That is not true," Feliciano said. The baker lifted his eyebrows. "Many people looked drained and duller than usual, but you have bright looks, unlike the others."

Oliver smiled. Perhaps it was not bad as he thought. "Aren't you sweet?" He shot to the others, "It remains a mystery why you two want him gone so hastily."

Kuro growled, "The crying."

As if he did not cry. Oliver shook his head, turning to Feliciano again. He would take someone crying over someone cooping their emotions any day. "You are one of the few people brave enough to compliment someone." It took someone from a different _universe_ to get a compliment! "It is...dreadful to say that my appearance made me a victim of harassment in my youth," being the supposed _freak_ he is.

Feliciano clasped his hands over his mouth in horror. "That's awful."

Oliver giggled at his reaction. "It was, but you know what? All those silly children are bums at the moment." His eyes flickered to Kuro and Lutz glaring at him. "Most of them, at least."

That prompted Feliciano to sniggle. "I thought you were kind of scary, at first, Ollie! I didn't know you were in my world!"

One of Oliver's eyes twitched. "They say you learn something new everyday!"

Before the other man could respond, Kuro put in, "I have learned that you two can jabber all day if given the chance. Since you liked that world so much, why did you not stay in it?"

"That is harsh!" Oliver scolded. He pushed from the table for temporary relief, and to fetch the cupcakes abandoned on the counter. "Arthur and I had an altercation about the switching process." He took a deep breath before taking the tray. "He said if I wanted his body so bad, then I had to fight for it."

Feliciano's eyes were wide, following the baker as he sat down with the treats. "Did you?" Lutz and Kuro stared at the cupcakes, more apprehensive than he was.

"Yes, and I lost," Oliver's smile pulled down. "However, I am not ashamed," anymore, he lied to himself. "Arthur won fairly," he admitted with gritted teeth, "and I am glad I even had the opportunity to lay eyes on a place like that." He felt his head grow hot from irritation, so he soothed himself by grabbing a cupcake. "Talking about it is rather upsetting, and I could only know how much pain it brings to you, now that you know you cannot return it to it."

Feliciano sniffled, his eyes welling up with tears again. "What am I going to do?"

"Since Luciano-san is not going to come back, then you will simply need to take his place."

"No! I can never be someone I am not! I don't belong here!"

"Then you better learn how!" Kuro snapped back. "Rather than bawl your eyes out all day about something you cannot change, be useful!"

Oliver mouthed, "Wow." As cruel as it was, Kuro was telling the truth.

"Luciano left for a reason," Lutz announced grimly. "He will not want to come back. Like Kuro said, crying will not get anything done. The world is still turning."

The baker agreed with a nod, since his face was stuffed with a cupcake. Quickly swallowing it to get in, he chirped, "It wil be splendid for little Feliciano to show the ways of his world to the people who need it."

Lutz grumbled, rubbing his squared jaw, "He will need to be integrated as a normal human of society first."

Kuro's head bobbled. "None of that crying either."

"I think if we could keep the friendly aspect, but train him with weaponry, our lives will be a little easier."

Feliciano looked horrified, eyes wide, and mouth hanging open. "W-what? Hey, you guys-"

" _Hai,_ he will need to learn not to scream at the sight of a blade."

That should have been an interesting tale. Before Oliver could ask Kuro what it was about, Feliciano threw his fists against the table, causing them and the cupcake the baker held to jump. "Why are you talking about me as if I am not right here? I don't want to change anything I am just to fit in!"

Oliver took a leveling inhale, setting his treat down to pat one of Feliciano's hands. "Feliciano, this is important. Perhaps not a complete change, but it will be best if everyone else around you keeps thinking you are Luciano." He felt dreadful for going on as the brunet stared at him with watery eyes, but as many similarities their worlds shared, they were much different, too. "Dream worlds leading to alternate universes? Someone will cut your tongue out for talking like a madman!"

A loud sniff. "N-no!"

"Yes, my dear Feli." Oliver sharpened his voice, "This world is fragile. If you want to be yourself, it will have to be a little at a time. Let people get used to things like smiles and unmasked tears of sadness." He took a shuddering breath as Feliciano made a small _hic._ "It will make their lives, and yours from here on out, much better."

Feliciano eased into his seat, dabbing at his eyes. Oliver glanced at the tray of cupcakes, and reached for one. "Eat something," he coaxed. "I'm sure with the whole worldly switching occurrence, you did not find the time to put something in your tummy."

Lutz visibly tensed, straightening his relaxed lean against his chair. "W-wait, Oliver..."

The cupcake was already out of the baker's hands, stolen by a loud rumble from Feliciano's stomach. Oliver smiled at how the other man widened his eyes as he nipped the dessert. "It tastes good!"

"Of course it does!" Oliver said, as if it were obvious. "They are _my_ cupcakes, after all." He learned from the best!

Lutz leaned toward Feliciano, as if reaching for the cupcake, despite there being a whole batch waiting on the tray. "N-no, you shouldn't..." Feliciano elicited a high noise of irritation, and stuffed his treat in his mouth so it would not be stolen away.

Kuro sighed, putting his gaze to the front windows. "Let him eat it. Half of it is already in his stomach."

"What's wrong?" Crumbs flew from Feliciano's mouth. "Don't you guys want any? They're delicious!"

"Yes, something is wrong," Oliver noted. A gleeful simper marked his face as he nudged the tray of remaining treats in Lutz's direction. "You fellows do not have cupcakes in your hands!"

The blond grew terrified over a tray of cupcakes, and pushed it away from himself. "Nor do we want any."

"Why?" Oliver goaded, giving the tray another shove. "Afraid something will bite you?"

So easily, an argument broke out of Lutz and the cupcakes. Oliver was accused of putting fingers in the batter, not necessarily his own. He harshly yanked on Lutz's ears in retaliation. However, by the time the trio left for the night, all of them were in a better mood about the whole ordeal.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The baker announced to his fairy friend during the next peaceful afternoon, "I figured since I had the flat, a cat would be suitable."

Lila shifted around Oliver's hair. "Oh, I'm not sure, Ollie. Why not get something less creepy, like a rabbit?"

"I am looking to liven up the place, dear," Oliver pulled a thread from a patched canvas until it could go no further, before stabbing the fabric again. He glanced to the bakery's front windows, but none of the passersby were interested to look in. "What do you have against felines, anyway? This is not about Gizmo, is it?"

"Cats sneak around all the time! They don't care if we're from a different realm, they'll try to eat us! Or make a game out of it, at least! It's rude!"

Oliver held the woven cloth at arms length to scrutinize it, and suggested, "You could parade around on its back."

Lila gasped, "I could, couldn't I? You'll need to get a cat, first!"

The baker softly laughed, knitting more quickly. A shadow caught his eyes, and he looked up in surprise at a figure ripping open the door. He called, "Flavio! You are a little way from your own shop!"

The blond declared, his furious green eyes burning through his rose glasses, "You and I need to talk!"

More movement passed by the window, and Luciano's gang emerged after him, all looking frightened and/or concerned. Lutz began, "Flavio, wait! You can be civil about this."

Of course, Flavio was not, snapping, "I know that's not my brother in his body! There's this stupid thing about different worlds, and dreams, and they said you know everything, so you better tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"Oh my," Lila murmured.

Oliver swallowed roughly, glancing at the other's timid expressions. Things were calm just two minutes prior to this mess! "Come to the kitchen, and we will talk one on one in there."

He was unsure whether Flavio truly did not understand the whole aspect of the parallel universes, or just did not want to understand. "Flavio, deny it all you want, but like you and I, your brother has a counterpart, and that is who is currently inhibiting Luciano's body. He is going to stay there until Luciano decides to come back."

"How do we get him to come back?! You know about these worlds, why don't you go to that void place, and get Luciano back here?"

"Luciano is not there anymore! He is in the other universe! I already told you, I cannot go there, and my counterpart would not allow it if I could."

"What about mine? Go talk to him."

"I cannot contact your counterpart." Oliver sourly suggested, "Do it yourself."

Flavio bared his teeth in an angry sneer, "Dammit, what if he is an asshole?"

No different from him. "His own brother's life could be on the line. All you need to do is _calmly_ explain things to him, and I am certain he will understand." In a more docile tone, Oliver offered, "It is not uncommon to experience difficulty to make the connection. To send you on your way, I can make a serum that can ameliorate the process-"

"No," Flavio stuck his nose in the air. "That won't be necessary. I can do it myself."

Lila laughed at him. "Is he trying to smell something?"

"All right," Oliver said through gritted teeth, agitated and doubtful, "I am sure if you need anything else, you would be able to figure it out yourself then, too."

The blond stopped at the doorway, tossing his head in his direction. "Oh, by the way, that idiot airhead is back."

Oliver's tenseness dropped as he mashed his eyebrows together. "What airhead?"

Flavio sighed outrageously, limply gesturing with his hand. "That stupid American. He came into _my_ shop, and asked for something besides a prison jumpsuit, and had the balls to not have any money!"

The baker weakly managed, "What?"

The fairy harshly tugged on his hair, "Ollie! Didn't you hear him?!" Oliver flinched from the volume she was using as she shouted, "That's got to be Allen! Allen's back!"

"Okay, well, I'm leaving now," Flavio announced when he was left without a comprehensive reply. He strutted into the front room, letting Oliver to trail after him. When the baker managed to make it to the counter with a hand over his mouth, the other man was standing over Feliciano at one of the tables. "...seem to be a behaved enough guy, but don't think I am not going to be giving up on my brother easily like the others."

Poor Feliciano looked lost, even if he was sitting. Flavio turned to Oliver, briskly nodding. "I need to get back to my store. See you three...hopefully never." His boots tacked on the tiled floor, and upon his departure, the shop feel into peace with a collective sigh.

Oliver stuck a hand to his forehead, exclaiming, "What a bratty child!"


	41. Chapter 40

Whatever Flavio decided to do with this new found information, Oliver did not prioritize his worries toward it. Catching a fitful sleep by himself for what he hoped to be one of the last times, he locked the bakery, and furiously scratched chalk across the back foyer's floor. He could not help but laugh in glee as the teleportation circle formed from his movements. Matters were not made saner as Lila rooted him on with her own excited giggles.

"It is done!" Oliver announced, dropping the stick of chalk. He situated himself in the middle of the pattern of free lines, not caring for the chalk snapping on the floor. Lila shrunk against his scalp, making sure she was brought along, too.

There was a snap of motion from Oliver's chanting, taken for his insides to scramble around. The new room was tiled, and the smell of sweat and other disgusting fluids greeted them. When Oliver glanced behind himself, he noticed a toilet. Immediately, with an exclamation of disgust, he scrambled off of the bathroom stall's floor.

Lila shuddered, "Yucky!"

Oliver flushed the toilet, his freckled nose curled in disgrace. He scrubbed his hands vigorously at the double sink, and glanced at the words scratched into the bricked wall. "Based on the numbers and inappropriate drawings on the bathroom walls, I assume I am in a bar."

Opening the door, Oliver's suspicions were confirmed. Since it was still before noon, only the workers, and a few desolate people were around and about. The television sets were audible, showing antique auctions. The eyes trailed on the screen were more than delighted as a vase proved to be a goldmine.

Nobody significant was present. Oliver pelted outside, inhaling with a smile as fresh air greeted his lungs. He rounded the building twice, stopping to scratch his head. He was already growing hot from the sun's summer power.

Lila buzzed from her scout out across the street. "He's not here."

"Did my spell _not_ work? If he is not here, why was I summoned here?"

The fairy tossed a distasteful look to the bar. "Maybe he was here recently, or he comes here a lot."

"I am not good at hunting," the man depreciated, "but at least I have others to do that for me." He patted his pocket for a stick of chalk, not wanting to go all the way across town the hard way. "Oh, drat, I lost my chalk somewhere. Come on, I need to get back to the bakery."

It was becoming late morning when he pushed open the front door, groaning in relief how he remembered to leave the air conditioning running in his absence. The baker trudged across the front room, passing the phone, since he needed water more at the moment. Lila lifted herself from his sweat-pressed hair, not as affected by the heat since she rode on his head the whole time. "Icky!"

Oliver guzzled the glass as he dialed on the phone. He tapped his foot as the line drawled, and it eventually picked up to a gruff, "Hello, who is it?"

"Oliver," all he said, throwing the glass back again.

"It's Oliver," the voice, which must have been Lutz's, was muffled, announcing to whoever was around him. "Do you need something?"

"I have a job for you three."

"What, today?"

"Today," Oliver quipped sharply. "As soon as possible."

"I have to make breakfast first," Lutz weakly dissented, "and wake up Luc-err, Feliciano."

The baker rubbed the condensation forming on his glass, and swiped the wetness on his forehead. Happy hour was not for several hours, so as much as he was impatient, jumping onto anything or anyone would not make time pass faster. "Oh, all right. Take your time, then, but please be here by four."

"You said please! We'll be there."

In the long hours, Oliver compiled an information folder as he usually did, but smiled for different reasons as the copy of a photo emerged from the printer. He tried resuming his knitting again, but his hands trembled too much. After wasting a few hours making sure his dwelling was spiffy, he headed downstairs.

Lila asked, "Can I have some sugar?"

"Absolutely not! You are in a tizzy as is!"

The fairy snorted, and swished a tiny hand. "Pssh! If anybody is in a tizzy, it's you!"

Oliver should have seen that one coming. He slapped the folder on the kitchen counter, and unbuttoned his sleeves to wash his hands.

His friend tried again, "How about some sprinkles?"

"How about you behave yourself?" The baker opened the fridge to dig around the bottom drawer.

"Ew! Carrots?! Why do you need carrots?!"

"Carrot cake," he simply said.

Lila gasped, "Oh! It'll smell all nice in here!"

"Good." During the baking time, Oliver confined himself to the front counter, drumming his fingers on the plastic surface.

"Woo, fun." The fairy cheekily mumbled. She sighed, and flopped on her side dramatically. "We're still waiting for those weird people to come in yet! Ugh!"

Oliver had agree with her, until movement ran along the front window. He gasped, straightening up as Feliciano grabbed the door, wildly gesturing for his companions to enter. The baker breezed around the counter, holding out his arms in greeting. The Italian bounced ahead of Kuro and Lutz, causing them to snap their heads to him in shock as he threw his arms around Oliver, who took his hug with great happiness. "Happy hello to you, dear Feli! I was beginning to be lonely!"

"Ve, you wouldn't have any pasta on you, would you?"

"I am afraid not."

"That's okay!" Feliciano let go so they could see face to face. "I ate some before I came here!" The others were quiet, staring at the duo with haunted glares. He reached out, making grabbing motions with his hands. "Would you like hugs, too?"

"They are very nice and warm!" Oliver sang, giggling when Kuro and Lutz backed away from Feliciano.

"Come on," the Italian flapped his arms, "it's just a hug!"

Lutz blurted, "Are hugs dangerous?" Kuro lifted his eyebrows, possibly wondering the same thing.

"Yes," Lila announced, "hugging is very bad! Once you hug, you can't ever stop."

Oliver covered his laugh with an agitated sigh. "You look like deer staring into headlights." He beckoned Feliciano toward them, further encouraged by the arm set behind his back as the other man caught onto what he was doing. "Let us go. I am enforcing this."

"Hugs!" Feliciano cheered. Both of them tackled the others as they had no other place to flee besides against the windows.

Kuro hissed between his teeth as Oliver's hand tapped his shoulder blades a few times. "Are the back pats _really_ necessary?"

Lutz made a noise as if he were going to tear up, trying desperately not to cry. Feliciano claimed, "It's not so bad! It doesn't hurt!"

Based on the way the duo was acting, it did hurt. Oliver rolled his eyes, releasing his arm around Kuro's side. "Let them alone, Feliciano. They can be miserable and without hugs on their own."

Feliciano made a small, dejected, "Aww," and gave Lutz a reassuring pat before stepping away.

Kuro rubbed his jacket, as if he tried to banish the cooties infesting the black material. "You should warn someone before doing that!"

"That was weird," Lutz agreed, his face going red as Feliciano pouted. "Not bad! Or necessarily good! Just weird."

"Ollie," Lila tugged on the baker's hair. "What about the thing they were supposed to do?"

Oliver clasped his hands together, his voice rising at the end, "I suppose you fellows are here to pick up your next job?"

Kuro answered crudely before anyone else, "Yes, so instead of wasting our time, you should give us the paperwork, and we will be on our way."

Feliciano smiled uneasily. Oliver bit back, "Time enjoyed is not time wasted." He did not wait for a scathing reply, opting to flee to the kitchen. The baker turned on the oven light, spying on the carrot cake, but it was only halfway done. He snatched the folder, going back to the trio in the front room. "This job is unusual," he started, holding up the envelope for someone to take it. "For this target, I still want alive." Their expressions grew confused. He said more sharply, "Actually, it would be best if you did not harm him at all!"

Lutz snorted, "What's the point in that?"

Oliver gasped, slapping a hand to his chest. "It's personal! The target has recently been seen frequenting Miller's bar," he fibbed, going off a hunch he had, "so getting him to come back willingly should be easier than normal." His voice drooped as a wicked smile crept across his face. "He may be drunk."

The envelope flapped for attention, and Feliciano grasped it. "Can we still interact with people and things around us?"

Oliver's fit of giggles snapped off with a choked gasp. "That is what you are supposed to do. Do not tell me your group awkwardly stands there, watching the target! You have to act natural!"

Lila muttered, "I don't think Feliciano is natural."

Kuro was already halfway out of the bakeshop. "All right, let's go."

Oliver lamely scolded, "You leave every time I start telling you something!"

He swore he caught Lutz grumbling, "It is obvious why."

"Are you trying to be funny?!" The door shut behind Feliciano, who tossed a worried look over his shoulder through the glass. Oliver continued, "Because I hope you are not! Don't hurt the target!"

"Ollie, Ollie!" Lila yanked on a clump of auburn. "Calm down!"

The man flinched, and grumbled, glaring at the trio disappearing pass the side of the bakery. "I swear, I am going to cut them up, and put them in my cupcakes if they hurt him! Then, all their rumors would become true, just to spite them!"

"No, no! We already went over this! The batter would be all weird, and the cook times would be all messed up!"

Oliver took a leveling breath. "Oh, Lila, what if they hurt him? What if Allen fights them from a miscommunication?"

Lila was quiet for a quick moment, most likely making a silly face from her perch. "I'm sure they got the memo. They speak the same language, don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Oliver bit his lip, rubbing the back of his hands in an absentminded motion. "Oh, dear, what if he does not even want to come back? I have not thought of that!"

"'Oh dear' is right, Ollie. You're worrying too much. Allen would be really, really, really, _really_ stupid if he didn't want to come back!"

Oliver clamped his hands on the side of his head. "He is stupid though!" He leaned on the counter with a groan, and slipped his palms to his face.

Lila relaxed from the invading fingers retreating. "You better not talk like that when he waltzes through that door!"

The baker's ears bit red, still hiding behind his palms. "Be quiet."

"Your cake is burning."

Oliver gasped, and flung himself from the counter to the kitchen. He ripped open the oven door, bending to stare at the unburning cake. Lila pushed away from the heat billowing into their faces, snickering mischievously. He straightened, slamming the door shut. "It is not!"

"Aren't you going to make an icing for it?"

"Oh, of course," he gave his head a little shake. The fairy watched him dig around the cabinets and refrigerator with a snicker. They both knew his mind had been on other things. He caught her sultry smile, and giggled, guilty. "If you want some of this icing, you have to help me."

"Sure, Ollie! What do you need?"

The cake rested on the stove top a while later, waiting for the final touches of its frosting. "How does it taste?" Oliver asked, holding the bowl so Lila could float down into it, and drag a finger across the walls. "Is it good?"

"Wow! As always, Ollie!"

"I should try then, too, right?" The baker copied the gesture, popping his finger in his mouth.

Lila grinned. "Good?"

"Of course!" Oliver sniggled, giving his hands a wipe. "I just need to let that cool before I put the icing on, and then we will have ourselves cake!"

"Yippie!" The fairy cheered, excitedly clapping. It looked as if she could hardly wait, unable to take her eyes from the dessert. However, her eyes widened as she gasped, "Oliver-"

"Ollie?"

Oliver let out an embarrassing squeak, and shrunk against the wall beside the doorway from the new voice in the front room. Lila put her hands on her hips. "Go. _Now._ I'll start pulling your hair!"

The man straightened, running his hands down his over shirt. He glanced to Lila for reassurance, but she only crossed her arms. Oliver let out a nervous laugh, and gave the wooden frame a squeeze as he scuffled into view. His company's head lifted, red eyes widening at the sight of him.

Slowly, Oliver crept to the counter, and subtly rested against it as a hopeless smile scrunched his cheeks. Certainly, a year wherever he had gone, affected Allen noticeably, just like everyone else. His usual brown leather fit to his broad shoulders, and even when he was leaning on the counter too, his height cleared the baker's by an inch or so. A slow smile exposed Allen's teeth, one of them off to the side missing in action as his eyes soaked up Oliver, leaving his skin feeling prickly and warm.

A slight tilt of his head made Oliver realize the other man was waiting for him to say something. Perhaps something like, "Hey, I missed you," or, "What in the world are you doing here all of a sudden? Get out of my bakery!" Instead, those years working and giving his unreciprocated service crashed onto his head. "H-how may I help you?"

A surprised expression overtook Allen's face, but only for a quick moment before the baker could start cursing his own existence. "Do you do take out?" A wink. He was playing along.

A snippy flush grabbed Oliver's face. Warm fingers brushed beneath his that rested on the counter, causing them to twitch. He spoke quietly so his voice would not try anything funny, "Only for special circumstances."

"Miller's bar...six tomorrow evening?"

Oliver's smile proved eternal. "I will be there." A small, docile cheep bloomed in the back of his throat as Allen leaned over the counter and brushed a cheek with his lips.

"Heh, Ollie," the words were almost inaudible to Oliver from the ridiculous pounding in his ears. He was paralyzed as the other man pulled away, grinning just as stupidly as he was, and gave his bonier hand a last squeeze before slipping away. The poor baker could not even look down to check if he was melting onto his own clean floors.

"Ollie?" Lila's voice was drawn out. Her gleeful smile was audible through her questionable tone. "You all right?"

The street lights shone on Allen's face as he cut through the night, tattling of his own relentless grin. Finally, Oliver managed a little movement, but that was to rest his fingertips on his cheek.

"Hey now, don't hyperventilate," the fairy warned. "We still have cake to eat. Ollie? Oliver!"

* * *

 _A.N.- Someone needs a thirst-aid kit._

 _Also, customer service in a nutshell:_

Oliver: Hello, welcome to the Queen's Cupcakes! How are you today?

Customer: *ignores*

Ollie: All right! I will just go screw myself! .:^_^:.


	42. Chapter 41

As soon as Oliver opened his eyes, he shot up to a sitting position in his bed, exclaiming, "I have a date!" Without reply, he glanced around his pale bedroom, realizing he was by himself. The man pulled the covers to his face, burning pink from his outburst. "Lila, I thought you said you were going to come with me."

A light weight smacked the back of his head. "I am!"

"Oh!" Oliver felt the fairy scramble into his permanent bedhead. He uneasily snickered, "You heard that, didn't you?"

"Yep!" She cheerfully popped the word on her lips. "So what? You have good reasons to be excited! Allen's back, and he is totally fine with seeing you."

"Well," the baker scrunched his blanket in fists, "maybe he asked to meet me so we could only talk-"

"Stop. Stop that. No!"

Oliver laughed pitifully, and peeled away his covers to swing his legs over the bed. "Fine, but we are going to a pub. If you do not want to be in such a squalid place with stinky people, then I understand."

"Nuh-uh! I waited for more than four seasons for this reunion! I am _not_ missing it, gross guys and all!" Lila flew from his hair to land on his dark dresser so he could properly dress himself. "I'm more worried about you getting crazy! I see how that alcohol stuff gets you!"

"Th-That is in the sanctuary of my own home! I will be in public! I know how to behave myself." Oliver held up a bowtie and a ribbon. "Which one?"

"Ribbon, and not the green one. Wear the blue one. Anyway, just because you _know_ how to behave yourself, that does not mean you _will._ "

"Such a sudden distrust in me?" Oliver dropped his bowtie back into the top drawer before shoving it close. Lila crossed her arms and let out a little _hmph._ He looped the lace around his neck, and curled his nose. "Are you sure? This is what I usually wear."

"Even better! Don't dramatically change yourself; it'll freak him out! I know it would freak me out."

"I guess you're right."

"What are we going to do in the meantime?"

Oliver uncertainly suggested, "Eat cake?"

Lila set her jaw in a thoughtful jut. "Cake is good!"

Somehow chewing his time away in small increments with silly hobbies and straightening anything that was astray in the entire building, Oliver was becoming nauseous from sitting behind the counter. He left a half hour early, assuring the fairy, "The walk is included."

She only laughed, knowing. Happy hour had started, and they hoped it was not too crowded, so they would not be lost in a sea of drunkards. The neon signs were blinking in patterns, enticing outsiders to come inside and drown their sorrows. A pair of other men passed by, glancing at him with curious stares. One of them smirked, and was kind enough to hold the door open. Oliver took to the gesture, about to thank him, but the stranger threw out a hand, roughly slapping his rear. His companion gaffed at the baker's yelp and horrid glare.

Oliver hurried away from the pair, letting Lila to yell after them as he turned sharply toward the booths as they headed to the bar. He plopped himself into the cushions, the seat sighing beneath him. He wiggled around, and exclaimed in disgust as his legs stuck to the sticky material. "This better be worth it," he grumbled, eyes scanning the crowd milling around the main counter. Some merry makers rubbed chalk squares on the end of their pool sticks, but nobody else was lurking close to him. He was alone with the exception of the fairy on his head. She twitched and lightly thrashed.

"I came here a tad early," Oliver admitted, staring down at the pale table. He took a disdainful sniff. The unhygienic crowd must have not come yet to spread themselves, based on the obvious smell of air and carpet fresheners. The bartender gracefully filled and slid drinks left and right; the baker decided to thoughtfully wait until the crowd thinned.

A shapely body moved in front of his vision. Oliver blinked in surprise, looking up to a rather lovely looking woman putting her hands on her hips. "You alone, sweet cheeks? You should join us in the back for a round of billiards."

Lila shot to her feet, still on Oliver's head. "Hey, get back!"

Oliver quietly announced, "Thank you for the offer, but I am waiting for someone."

The lady let out a short, amused snort. "Sure thing, but you know where we are."

He did not watch her strut back to the other side of the bar. Lila huffed, roughly settling back into his hair. "People, I tell you!"

"She was just being friendly," Oliver said, resisting temptations that were below him. "That is hard to come by around here." He glanced at the bar again, and patted the table. "I am going to get something to drink."

"Not too much!" The fairy called out, staying on the surface as if to keep it claimed. Oliver exchanged a quick greeting with the bartender before pulling out a hefty sum for her to keep. She nodded, and kneeled behind the counter to begin his first drink. The other people still lingering about the bar eyed him with apprehensive expressions. He looked anywhere but their faces. Those looks should mean nothing to him as a matured man.

Lila fluttered from the table as Oliver returned. "What's that!"

"It is...oh, does it matter? It is alcohol."

"Can I try?"

Oliver clamped a hand over the top of his squared glass. "Absolutely not! I cannot think of anything worse than a drunk fairy!"

"Not even smelly Frenchmen?"

"Not even smelly Frenchmen."

"What about active volcanoes?"

"I can live with those."

Lila rolled her eyes, settling on the table again, more dejectedly. "Have you even seen a drunk fairy?"

"No, and I do not plan on doing so anytime soon." Oliver lifted the glass, and closed his eyes to the strong liquid crashing into his mouth.

"Easy there!" Lila said when he set the cup down ungently, wincing from the fire running down his throat.

Oliver's eyes watered, "Wow, that is strong."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it is good." Oliver tipped the glass back again, draining the small cup with a few hard gulps. He pulled it back from his face, and a devious smile replaced its presence.

"I do not like that face," Lila muttered. "Remember what you came here for, Ollie."

"It is a bar. You are supposed to drink," the man shot back, rattling the ice sitting on the bottom of the glass. He looked at the bar again, slowly rising out of his seat for a refill.

"Starting the party without me, Ollie?" Someone called from behind him.

A zing ran up the baker's arms as he spun around. "Allen," the name slipped out of his mouth, and so did the cheesy smile. He heard Lila squeal in delight from the table. A careful grin rose to the other man's face, and they stood, facing each other in a quiet moment. Oliver limply gestured to the bar, "Um...drinks?"

"Yeah, drinks," Allen followed after his awkward lurch.

Oliver drew up to the counter, and ran a hand against the side of his head to nonchalantly tame any hair sticking out with little success as the bartender worked on another customer's beverage. He gave a little jump as his company brushed his side and set his arms on the dark surface. Allen seemed puzzled as he gazed down at him. "Howdy."

"Hey," Oliver tittered, the finger entangled in a rope of his hair twirling faster. He realized his hair was getting to be longer than he usually kept it. Either a new cutting appointment was to be scheduled soon, or he could grow it out to see just how-

Allen cleared his throat, his smile uneasy. "I was thinking of a lot of things to say when I got here, but I..." he spread his fingers in a lost motion. "I just can't seem to find anything to say."

"A-are you all right being here?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Oliver tried to not overdramatically die from that goofy grin. "You did."

The other man shrugged, his sheepskin collar fluffing more with the movement. "As long as I'm with you."

"Are you getting anything?" The bartender was suddenly propped on the bar, glancing between the pair with a permanently lifeless look.

Oliver forced his hands to his sides to cease his nervous movements. "I'll have what I had before."

She turned to Allen, who was squinting at the selection of various bottles running up the wall. "Uh, yeah, I'll just get one of your beers."

"Which one? There's more than seven kinds up there."

"Shit, uh..."

"The second most expensive one," Oliver declared, "and put it on my keep." He grasped his new glass, and headed back to the booth.

"Ollie, wait," Allen called out, but the bartender already set an open bottle on the counter, motioning for him to take it. She turned to tend to other customers, ending that argument. "I could've gotten that."

"You could," Oliver said with a tentative wobble of his head. "However, I am sure juvenile detention had very little financial opportunities, and you must be very limited on cash."

"Damn, you're good!"

"Ew! That stuff smells even grosser!" Lila blew a raspberry from the smell emitting from Allen's bottle, and escaped in Oliver's hair.

He propped a hand beneath his chin, tracing the rim of his glass with the other, and smiled fondly at his company as he guzzled his drink. "What have you been doing in the time you have come back?"

"I haven't been back long. Probably for like..." Allen set down his bottle to count on his fingers. Oliver furrowed his eyebrows as he picked up how strange the other man spoke. He only had one drink down, and apparently was hearing things, unless 'growing up' was not as kind to Allen in sound as it was in looks. "Uh...little more than a week, but less than two."

"Have you seen your brother yet?" Oliver felt how easy it was to slip into conversation with his company, like getting back into a cold pool when one was already soaked from it.

A haunted look passed through Allen's widened eyes. "No...not yet."

The baker took a quick gulp of his own drink, his expression faltering from its sting. "It will only be worse when he finds out you are avoiding him."

" _When_ he finds out? Shit, Ollie, are you with me, or against me?"

Oliver giggled against his glass, warmed despite the ice hitting his mouth. "Where have you been staying for the time being?"

"Ah, well, after I picked up my stuff stored at the House, I crashed at some dump motel. Eugh!" Allen shook his head. "Not going into that. I just been leeching off of pals I been hanging out with." He scooted toward the table a little, drawing in the other's eyes. "What's with Luciano's pals? They said you were their boss when they came after me. I always been kind of freaked out by them."

"They _do_ work for me." Oliver stopped himself from saying something stupid. "They...bring things back to me." He drained his second cup so he would not say anymore about it.

"Hey," Lila warned. "Take it easy."

"Huh," Allen scratched his jaw, looking down at his now empty bottle. He gave it a little shake to collect all the droplets, and tipped it back one last time. "That's cool, I guess."

"Do you want more beer? I am going up there again, anyway."

"If you're offering," he shrugged, then clunk his bottle against Oliver's glass.

The baker's heart did a funny jump at Allen's smile, and he escaped to the bar again. The bartender looked at Oliver in alarm as he roughly stumbled into the counter. "Ah, th-the carpet has no traction," he giggled, swishing a hand in front of his flushed face.

Her eyes narrowed. "More of the usual?"

"Yes, please."

Oliver padded back to the table, setting the glasses on the table in their respective spots. Lila abandoned his head for the wooden surface. It did not jolt and move in such erratic ways.

"Did you do anything interesting when I was gone?"

Oliver felt elated from the little question. "I baked!"

"Really?" Allen raised his eyebrows, glancing from the lines from the condensation on his bottle to the other's proud simper. "Wow."

"Lots, and lots of baking!"

"That's your job, right?"

Oliver vigorously nodded, scrambling his brain. "What..." he tried coming up with a generic question. "What's wrong with your voice?"

Lila shot him a blank look.

"What are you talking about?"

The baker slapped the table by Allen's hand. "You sound like you have a frog down your throat."

"Ribbit." Allen snatched his arm away before he would lose it, and both of them doubled over in laughter. He managed to straighten first, drawing a finger over his eye. "You think I sound funny now? I know I do." He cleared his throat, putting on a constipated expression that made Oliver giggle in confusion. "How 'bout now? Testin', testin', one, two, I can't count."

"Allen!"

Lila directed her sharp looks to said man, as if it was his fault for Oliver's stupid string of laughter. He asked, "So why were you talking like that?"

"When I was 'round all 'em other kids, even your voice was something... _ahem,_ somethin' to get 'em goin'."

"That's awful." Oliver's hands patted the table again for the other's, but Allen kept back with an untriumphed grin. He bent over the table for the fingers curled around a cold bottle. "Ick, your hands are wet."

"So are yours."

Oliver grabbed his own drink, swiping at the water droplets running down the sides. "I need more stuff."

"I don't think so," Lila said, but he scooted out of the bench. He pushed to his feet, and suddenly, it wacked Oliver in the face in gusting whirls. He blinked in surprise, not registering right away that he propped himself on the table he stumbled back again. "See? You are getting funky, Oliver. That should be it for you."

"Belt up," he growled.

Allen dissented as he crookedly sauntered after the bar, "I didn't say anythin', but really..."

Oliver only wiped at the blush on his face, but it did not do anything to ameliorate how sweaty and humid the bar was. He nodded when a new glass was placed in front of him. The skeptical look from the bartender agreed with the fairy, but what did they know? He went back to the booth with a pleased smile. Before he sat back into the seat, he began chugging his new cup.

His company was not impressed. His own smile fell to a concerned look. "Hey, it's gettin' late. D'you wanna go back to the bakery?"

"Hm, no," Oliver did not think it over, and turned around again. He took a step to the bar, his foot landing hard against the carpet, but his other leg did not follow through. He twisted around, and slapped the hand that held him hostage by the belt loop. "Stop that."

"You still gotta walk home."

Lila was in his face. "Come on, Ollie."

Oliver stumbled back, and his calf hit the side of the cushion. His legs were already shaking, eager to buckle beneath him, and he fell onto Allen's lap. The other man hissed from the ungentle collision. "Ow, your ass is bony, babe, uh, Ollie."

The baker giggled madly, almost dropping his glass when he hit the bottom of it against the table, trying to place it on the surface. He leaned against the heat seeping through his clothes. "I missed it when you called me babe."

"Sure thing...babe." The legs underneath him shifted, and moved closer to the edge of the seat.

"What...what are you doing?" Oliver grabbed onto Allen's knees that were exposed by giant rips in his jeans.

"We're leavin' now."

"No, we aren't... _hic._ I'm still thirsty."

"For what?!" Lila cried out. "Look what that stuff did to you."

"I don't...I don't need you yelling in my ear." A strong hand grabbed one of his, driving him forward to the exits. "Oh," he realized he was on his feet.

The fairy was there to watch the ordeal, even when it did not process through whatever was present instead of Oliver's usually sharp mind and tongue. She was certain even he did not trust his own steps. Thankfully, even though his cheeks were pinked by his own intake, the other man's gait was much more certain than a wobbly toddler's.


	43. Chapter 42

"The fresh air will clear you up real fine!"

"Ugh!" Oliver did not appreciate the 'fresh air.' "It's hot!"

"It's summer, babe. Come on, you wanna go back to the bakery?"

"Yes, please!" Lila said. Oliver's head bobbled up and down. A coal tar buzzed by his face, and hissed when the fairy stepped up to swat at it. "Get back!" Her friend only giggled at her turmoil of the thing being nearly the same size as her.

"This is takin' too long," Allen decided when the other man only made it to the corner of the street before nearly stumbling over. He stepped in front of Oliver, and knelt down. According to plan, the baker tripped from the sudden maneuver, and his arms slung around his shoulders. Not giving him a chance to slip away, he latched onto Oliver's legs, and hoisted him around his back. "Don't puke over me."

"I like...I like my whisky too much," Oliver sighed, and pressed his face against Allen's collar.

"You're a handful. Next time, we're gon' take a nice lil' walk in the park, or get somethin' to eat...away from alcohol!"

"Allen," another fierce storm of giggles racked Oliver's chest. "Are you asking me on another date?"

Lila shot the duo a dark look, flying along side of their slow gait. Allen was quiet for a few steps, his eyes on the cracks and lines running through the concrete. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." He adjusted his grip around Oliver's legs when the baker scrabbled for purchase, and whined about not wanting to fall. Several passersby from across the street pivoted their heads to their trail. "The fuck you lookin' at?" He hissed, probably to himself. Louder, he groaned, "Aw man, what's Bella gon' say when I bring you back drunk off your ass?"

"Allen," Lila murmured. She was about to tell him the grave news, but clamped her mouth shut, knowing it would be a waste of breath.

Oliver tried for her. "She's...she is not going to say anything... _hic,_ 'cause she's dead!"

"What? You're kiddin'! How'd that happen?"

"Like this," Oliver picked up his head, only to flop it to the side. "Bleh."

"Ollie, that's an awful joke."

He pitifully heaved, "I know!"

"Fine then. What would your momma say to you, gettin' yourself drunk like this? Or is she dead now, too?"

"I don't know," Oliver slurred. "It's your fault, you silly..."

"Yeah, I kinda figured." The stripes of the bakery's awning were now in view, pink and blue easily eye catching from down the street. "Hold on, baby, we're almost there."

"Ugh, I want to die. Everything is so awful. Everyone's so awful."

"No, it ain't! Have you ever seen puppies? They aren't awful."

Oliver giggled again, his legs kicking out from the arms curved around them. He clamped his hand onto Allen's forehead, fluffing up the red-brown hair beneath his palm. "Fuzzy puppy!"

Allen stepped in front of the bakery door, squinting at the lights shining on the tiled floors. "Where your keys at?"

"What?"

"Your keys!"

"Don't yell. You're hurting my head."

He bent his knees until Oliver's feet pressed against the sidewalk. Allen took it to himself to pat his pockets for the sought keys. Oliver gasped from the palms snaking into his pants. "Allen!" He exclaimed, falling to peels of laughter, "Buy me dinner first!"

"Which one unlocks this door?"

"Ha-ha...what?"

"Never mind. I'll just try 'em all. Stay there!" Allen said, beginning to run through the key chain.

"It's the gold one," Lila said. "It's the gold one!"

"Heehee, gold one," Oliver echoed, taking a shaky step back. His arms wobbled, but he managed to stay standing on his own.

"Gold one?" Allen tried the only shiny golden colored key, and the lock clicked. A wave of cool air and the scent of warm goods welcomed them. He led Oliver into the shop, breaking his stare on a car that sped down the street. For their own safety, Lila heaved with a push to lock the door. Hopefully, a lock could best a drunken baker. The man tensed at the click, throwing a startled glance over his shoulder. "The fuck?"

The fairy swished a hand at him. "Keep walking. There's nothing to see here."

"C-come on, Ollie, you're almost there. Fuckin' ghosts or some shit," Allen grumbled. Oliver stood numbly, staring at his floor. He managed to get the delirious baker around the counter and into the foyer. "Ugh, stairs!" He looked to his friend, who swayed a little on his feet, strangely quiet. "Another piggy back ride?"

"Oink, oink," Oliver hiccupped, and flopped against Allen's back.

"Yeah, oink, oink," the other man mused, slowly trudging up the steps, trying to hold onto the baker and not miss a stair at the same time. Lila swerved side to side, a low whine coming from her throat without her permission. It was too easy to imagine a foul step, and both of them tumbling down onto her. "Wow, I like what you did to the place." He set Oliver down, taking a generous sniff. "Doesn't smell like old ladies anymore."

"I am not... _hic..._ an old woman!"

Allen and Lila decided to ignore the comment. He towed Oliver down the hall, swinging his head to each of the doors. He pushed open the one to the small bedroom, and sighed, "Here we are...finally. Go on then, get in the bed."

Just to stay with him, Lila fluttered around Oliver's head, even though she had suspicions that he could not see, or did not pay attention to her anymore. Oliver dove stomach first onto the mattress, before shimmying over it to flip over and face his company. He started to make strange faces, gripping the sheets. "Behave yourself," the fairy warned, but the only response was a run of snorts with his snickers as Allen knelt before him.

"How the fuck did you tie your shoes?" Allen grumbled, picking at the laces to work out the knots.

Lila sighed, "You don't want to know." She was about to settle on Oliver's head, but decided that was not a good idea, based on the way it lolled from one side, and to the other. With a grunt, Allen situated himself on the edge of the bed, and reached to untangle the baker's ribbon. She flopped on one of the pillows, far enough from any stray movements, but close enough to shoot daggers at the both of them.

Oliver tipped his head again, blinking in surprise, but his vision could only focus for sporadic moments. He sniggled, lashes fluttering. Suddenly, his arm lashed out, and bent around the back of his company's neck, trying to pull him closer. Allen thwarted his attacks by pressing his forearm against his throat as he tossed the bow on the floor and worked on the top most buttons pressing against Oliver's neck. "I ain't bein' fresh wit' you, babe. It's so you don't choke in your sleep, or whatever."

"Are you fresh other times?"

"I could be," Allen winked, but suddenly shot to his feet, away from any grabby hands.

"Allen. Allen, where are you going?" The baker asked, his tongue becoming more loose with slurs. "Are you leaving again?"

"Nah, I'm just gonna crash in the livin' room. I'm going to be right next door, so if you need anythin'-"

"I need you."

"Besides that."

Oliver let out a growl, baring his teeth in an odd bite at the air. "You should come over and kiss me."

"I ain't doin' anythin' that's gonna encourage you."

"And you," Lila pointed out.

"Why not?!" Oliver whined. "We have not kissed in years!"

Allen propped a hand on the door way, kicking off his own sneakers before grabbing them. "It was a year. A lil' more than a year..."

"Still a long time. Please?"

"Heh, that's true."

"Hey," Lila pointed a finger. "No."

"How 'bout this," Allen dropped his sneakers on the dark floor boards, and sauntered to the bed. Oliver wiggled on the mattress excitedly, like a child left rampant in a candy shop. He grunted in confusion as his company pinned his hands on the bed, on both of his sides with a knee and one of his own palms, and used the other to smear his bangs back. He blubbered the other man's name as he pressed his lips against his forehead. "Better?"

Oliver seemed to contemplate this, and nodded. "Allen," he murmured in a quiet tone, and just as he pulled away, he suddenly grasped onto the back of Allen's head. However, the other man was quicker to clamp a hand over the baker's mouth.

"See, you're goin' crazy." Allen reached back to grab one of the hands tugging on his hair. He managed to free himself at the price of a few strands and a scoff of disbelief from his old partner. "I'm goin' now," he declared, kneeling to snatch his sneakers off the ground.

"No, Allen!" Oliver kicked his bed, as if he were confined to it. Perhaps he had forgotten to stand. "Please? Even if it's a little one?"

"We both know it ain't gon' to be a little one. Get some sleep," Allen tossed behind himself as he gripped the door knob. "It's gon' be a bitch comin' out of it tomorrow."

"You...stupid!" Oliver pounded on the mattress as Allen slipped away.

"Stop that!" Lila yelled.

Oliver did, surprisingly, but sobbed, "You're an idiot."

"I know," the muffled reply came through the wall. "You tell me every time we see each other."

Lila stepped in, flying in front of his face to push on his forehead. "Let's go. You heard him. Go to sleep."

"I'm tired," Oliver announced, and flopped backwards. He bounced a bit against the springs, and his head slumped.

"Ollie? Ollie," the fairy prodded the side of his face. "Mother nature, you fell asleep. I will be back when you are coherent!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

To the next morning, Oliver loathed his life. Waking up offered no joys, and there were no rewards in engaging in normal 'people' activities. He only needed his bed, until that betrayed him from the springs jabbing his ribs. The baker groaned, turning upright as the lack of oxygen intake from his previous face down position made his head hurt even more.

It may have been dramatic, but he wondered if he was dying. Alone, in his bedroom, spread on his bed was better than most ways, but tears still pooled in his bleary eyes. He just wanted to sleep, or death, which ever was easier to obtain. To top it off, he only had himself to blame, so he could not look forward to cursing someone else's day.

Oliver pushed from the mattress, attempting to get up, but only succeeded in turning to his side. It was progress his pounding head did not appreciate. His body was coming to as well, based on the uncomfortable weight lying below his abdomen. The bathroom seemed so far away, but the last thing a hangover needed was a bout of bed wetting. So, with great effort in his deep sleep deprived limbs, he managed to half roll, half push himself off his bed, and onto his feet. He shoved the bathroom door, already open, and nearly fell face first into the toilet bowl.

Proper clothes were too much, Oliver realized as he stumbled out of the small bathroom. He reached up to undo his neck wear, only to grope at the top most buttons, already undone. The man stopped halfway to his bedroom, smacking his lips. Water was more in need than clean clothes. Grumpily leaving the sight of his bed again, he braced a hand on the corridor wall for balance, and trudged toward the living room.

He paused at the opening as the faint buzzing of his television registered in his popped ears. Oliver slowly turned his head to the direction of legs beneath a blanket sticking out of the reclining chair. "Shit," a low voice emitted from the legs, commenting on a revolutionary bird feeder, anti-squirrel guaranteed. "That's actually pretty cool."

The body shifted as Oliver slipped and fell against the other wall from the wet-noodle sensation plaguing his legs. Allen's face popped up from the chair, looking over the rear cushion with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "Ollie?"

Oliver pushed from the wall, and hurried back down the hall. He could hear Allen scramble off the chair with curses, his steps heavier but more certain than his own. However, he made it into the bathroom, slamming the door just as hands hit the cheap wood. He twisted the lock, moaning in disgust as he shoved himself from it, toward the toilet once again.

"Ollie?"

Horrible retching was Oliver's only reply. It was something he knew he had to do, but hated the entire process. Once it was done, he tried to pretend it did not happen. He concerned himself with bursting from the sweltering bathroom and shakily inhaling from the cool air filtering through the hall. A strong arm caught his waist, and he fought to find his feet flat on the floor. He smacked his mouth again, cringing from the rotten aftermath.

"You're a sight fer sore eyes, Ollie," Allen said, and revealed a cup of water in his unoccupied hand. Oliver snatched it, even if it was not for him. "Yeah, that's good!"

So it was his. Oliver emptied the glass in ravenous gulps, clinging to its chilled sides. Allen had to pry it from his hands, despite his low growls of irritation. His company lightly pushed on his back to get him to the bed again, and shot out of the room soon after. The baker caught himself on his double cot, much more able bodied compared to earlier; it was just that he did not want to be. However, his current clothes felt heavy and unpleasant against his skin, so he persevered to his dresser.

A knock on the door frame made him jump, and he dropped one of his ties, but quickly spun away, still wobbling a bit. "Ollie?" Footsteps came closer despite his fierce gaze on the opposite wall. "How you doin'?"

"I have a dreadful hangover," he growled. "How do you think I am doing?"

A short laugh drifted into the air, and Oliver started again when a hand rested on his shoulder. Allen hovered by his side, so he looked the other way. When his company shifted to the other side, he did, too, lifting his hands to his face. "Hey, come on, somethin' else is wrong. Why aren't you lookin' at me?"

Oliver's ears reddened beside his thumbs. "I spent the entire night embarrassing myself."

"Aw, no you didn't, baby," the hand on his shoulder rubbed affectionately. Oliver fidgeted beneath its clutch. "We talked 'bout normal stuff, an' caught up wit' one 'nother."

"You are okay with that?" Oliver took his hands away to glance in Allen's direction. "I mean, y-you are still here..."

"Of course I am! As if a few pints in you would make be run away," Allen snorted, pressing closer. His tone was obviously underlined with a lopsided grin, "Who you takin' me fer?"

"I'm all gross," Oliver said, trying to shrug away, but wound up only encouraging the embrace with his shy smiles.

"We're all a lil' gross. That's why I'm fixin' you up a shower. You like 'em hot, right?"

"How did you know?" The baker cooed, still completely smitten despite the time passed. Apparently Allen was too, based on his arms wounding around his waist. "Are you _really_ fine with this?"

"Wit' us?" Allen guessed against the crook of his neck. " _Mmhmm_ , really fine."

Oliver let out a pitiful giggle when he felt himself slump against him, and had to be straightened. He dared to admit, "I missed you."

"Yeah, I missed you too, babe. I thought 'bout you _a lot._ " Allen tightened his grip around him a bit more, and took an sharp sniff. "Hm, I swear if this is another dream..."

"Oh, if it is, then please, don't wake up."


	44. Chapter 43

Throughout the day, Oliver's haze slowly dissipated. Only 'grinning and baring' proved to be the best way to deal with it. However, he kept the 'closed' sign for the bakery out to the world. Since the flat was almost always tidy, and Allen ducked out to check in with the pals he had been staying with, the baker was left on his own. The silence was easier to be around this time.

He had a phone call to make anyway. Using the downstairs phone, Oliver dialed, and a devious smile came to him easily. After a few rings, the other line picked up to a grumbling voice, "Hello?"

"Matt, it is Oliver. I have something to tell you."

A moment of silence for something to rustle on the other side before, "Go on then."

Oliver took a deep breath. "Your brother is back."

"What?" Matt snapped.

"Allen came back. He is out of juvenile detention now."

"Are you shitting me?!"

"Err...no, there is none of that involved in this business."

"Is he there now?"

"No, but he is supposed to be back soon. He went to get things from a buddy's place."

"I'm coming over there, Oliver."

Oliver slapped a hand over his mouth, giggling. "See you soon!" The line died, and he set the phone back on its receiver. He waited and hummed behind the counter, passing the time with a miniature sewing project. His smile grew without looking up as a figure passed by the window and opened the door.

"What'chu doin' there, Ollie?"

"Knitting."

"Knittin'?!" Allen echoed. A snicker escaped him.

Oliver slowly looked up, narrowing his eyes despite his endless smile. "Is there something funny about that?"

Allen's own grin fell immediately. "Nothin' at all, babe." He shifted foot to foot, free from the baker's look when it went back to the floral pattern. "I...uh, I got kicked out of my buddy's apartment."

"What?" Oliver lowered the weaving onto the counter. He noticed the straps of a ragged gym bag around Allen's shoulders. "You ought to think twice about seeing him as a buddy, though."

"You think!" Allen snorted. "We were just chillin' at the bar, an' I stepped away to take a leak, only to come out to Luciano's gang chasin' 'em away. So they're blamin' me fo' that."

Oliver drew in a dainty gasp, and clasped the hands clenched on the counter. "That is awful!" He announced in his feint horror, "Do not fret over them anymore, dear."

"How can I not be frettin'? I got nowhere to go!"

"Are you sure about that?"

Allen seemed confused at the baker's grin. "Uh, yeah. I'm too old to go back to the House, an' I ain't gon' bother my bro, wherever he is now. Siegmund's probably wit' him, right?"

Oliver could only stare at his company with a blank look. "You really are an idiot."

"What? I wasn't doin' anythin'!"

He clamped his hands on Allen's, forcing (and startling) him to look him in the eye. Did he have to spell it out? "My bed has been a tad cold as of recent."

"You're talkin' 'bout beds now? Maybe y'should get more blankets."

The baker felt his face starting to burn from irritation and embarrassment. He tried to not let his smile twitch from the other's lost expression. "Why, when you can have the same effect?"

"You want me to warm your bed?" Allen asked, still bewildered. He blinked a few times, and the mental gears kicked to life. His eyes widened, "Oh! You're askin' if I want to crash at your place?"

Oliver dipped his head to tap his forehead against their clasped hands in a gesture of madness. "Yes, you...you..." He was unable to come up with an appropriate name at the time. "It is not like anyone else is going to live with me."

"They ain't?"

"No, Allen," Oliver said sharply, picking up his head again. "Are you going to stay or not?"

"You shittin' me?" The other man asked, just like his brother.

"No, Allen," the baker repeated.

Allen smiled and looked to the ceiling as if he were the luckiest guy in the world. "Oh, man!"

Oliver lifted a hand to grab his chin, and bring his gaze level to his own. "Before you get too excited, this is _my_ flat, and _my_ bakery. Anything and anyone you bring, I expect to be taken to me first."

"Heh, of course, Ollie. Just tell me how much rent you need-"

"I do not need your money." As if Allen had any to give! "Your rent will be your help around the house and bakery. Some days, I do not get a chance to clean up the place."

"I can do that!"

"That is what I like to hear." Oliver closed their distance with a long-waited kiss. At least his company had enough head on his shoulders to appropriately respond to that, snaking an arm around his waist to rub small patterns against the small of Oliver's back. However, it was impossible to cram a year's worth of smooches in the time their chests started to burn for air, rather than one another.

"Damn," was all Allen said, breathless against Oliver's lips before continuing down his cheek and jaw.

Oliver giggled to match his flushed complexion. His eyes flickered to the door, and his titters only grew more furious. "Allen, you have a visitor."

The other man straightened up, darting his tongue out in a confused expression. He followed Oliver's gaze to the front door, where a looming figure stood, peering in. Allen's rosy cheeks paled as his face grew horrified, worsened as Matt raised a hand to drag his blunt nails down the glass. "Oh...oh shit," Allen managed. He whipped around to scramble pass the counter, fleeing to the back of the bakery. His brother threw open the door, storming inside with his hands balled into threatening fists.

"He went out the rear door, just pass the kitchen," Oliver said. Matt curtly nodded, and lumbered after Allen as an animalistic growl rose from his throat. The baker rested against the counter, hands tucked under his chin, humming innocently to cover the sound of the back door being slammed shut.

"What's happening?" A voice asked from on top of his head.

Oliver jumped slightly, smiling uneasily from his small scare. "You just missed something good, Lila. Matt is going to hunt down his brother."

"That is not good!" The fairy exclaimed, shuffling around his hair. She stopped to take a sniff. "You seem better."

"Oh, I am," the man announced smugly. "I have just landed myself a new housemate."

"Really? It better not be a creeper!"

"Unless you consider Allen a creeper, than it is not."

Lila gasped, "Are you serious? That's great, Ollie!"

Oliver's cheeks pinked again. "I-it has been empty for so long with just me."

"And me!" Lila said. "Are you still going to get a pet?"

"If Allen wants one, too. It also affects him now. He may be allergic."

"I wouldn't blame him."

Oliver picked up his sewing as the fairy talked about how well the new blooms were, and tid-bits of the previous night, much to his disdain. He gritted his teeth, smiling strangely, but not nodding; that would disturb her perch. His threading pace increased in excitement of nearly completing it, and plucked the string from the needle. He finished the design with a knot in the back before holding it up.

"Ooh! Pretty!" Lila granted, "They look like the ones back home! My home, that is."

"I am thinking about either framing it, or sewing it on a pillow. What do you think?"

The front door swung open before Lila replied. Allen had a hand covering his cheek, eyes distant (and possibly haunted) as he lumbered to the counter. Oliver set down his work and motioned him to come closer. "Let me see the damage."

Allen rolled his eyes before removing his hand. His cheek was already puffing out with a horrible bruise, obviously a punch mark. "He had the balls to hug me after he done did this."

"Matt missed you," Oliver lightly pressed his fingertips to the angry marks, causing the bearer to hiss and flinch. He quickly retracted his hand to rub the uninjured side of his company's face, and his voice dropped, "I am afraid I missed you more, dear."

The other man clutched onto his hand to furiously nuzzle his palm. "You're gon' have to take that to Matt. Can I get some ice?"

"Of course," the baker retracted with a little laugh as he waltzed into the kitchen. Lila snickered from his head, suspicious as always. "What is that about?"

"You're so mushy, Oliver," she announced as he grabbed an easy pack of ice to wrap it in a dishtowel.

"So what?!" He squawked, and sharply sighed at more of the fairy's titters. A sense of déjà-vu smacked him in the face when he emerged beneath the door frame, grasping a wrapped cold pack due to Allen's facial injuries. The bakery may have been lonelier than it had been that time, but he smiled none the less from Allen scrutinizing his embroidery piece. He squinted and moved it closer to his face before leaning back, and forward again. "Are you all right?"

Allen snapped his head up from slumping against the counter, and set down the fabric. He eagerly took the ice pack, and asked, "They supposed to be flowers?"

"Of course," Oliver grimaced at the pattern. "Do they _not_ look like flowers?"

Lila assured him, "They do!"

The other man shifted the towel against his swollen cheek, letting his eyes slip close from a contented sigh. "They do. I just...uh..."

Oliver asked again, "Allen, are you all right?"

"Yeah, babe," his company gestured lamely around his eyes before jerking his hand away. "M-my bro sucker punched me."

"He must have punched you hard then."

The fairy laughed hard enough to start gasping for air. "Y-you should ask how many fingers you're holding up!"

Oliver did not know what she was up to, but did so anyway. "Allen, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Allen craned his head back, eying the digits in confusion. "Three. Why you wonderin' that?"

The baker caught on what Lila was hinting at. "Allen, can you...how bad is your eyesight?"

"Not bad!"

"You could not tell these were flowers on here."

"I don't see that many flowers."

"You _do_ know what they look like though, right?"

Allen groaned, lolling his head to the side in a dramatic gesture of annoyance. "Yeah, I can't see. Everythin' is blurry up close, but it's been like that since I was a kid."

Lila gaffed, "Told you!"

Oliver ignored her. "You are fine with that?"

"I guess I'm used to it."

"You guess?"

"It's gotten worse, but you know."

"The only thing I know about this is that you are going to running into walls soon, if that is the case."

"What do you want me to do 'bout it?!"

"Get glasses?"

"Fuck no!"

"Err...yes?"

"I'd look like a dork!"

Oliver told him fondly, "You are a dork."

"Fine, a nerd."

"You will be able to see. Do you want to see the trees and pretty flowers?" The baker leaned to the side, meeting his partner's slump against the counter, and brushed away the wet strands of hair wedged beneath the leaking ice pack. "Do you want to see me?"

Despite his eyebrows scrunching in a nerving bunch, a smile teased Allen's lips. "Shit, I don't really got a choice, do I?"

"Would you want me to answer that honestly?"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Later in that day, Oliver clamped a hand on Allen's wrist in case he had any plans of bolting, like a dog being pulled by a leash when it does not want to walk. Lila assured the baker, "Don't worry! I'll be here!"

He jabbed a finger at the fairy on the other side of the glass once Allen was situated in the passenger's seat. "You better not get into anything!"

"I'm not!"

Oliver narrowed his eyes, giving the window a last poke at her giggle before withdrawing to the car. Once settled, Allen leaned against the car door to give him a bizarre look. "Babe, did you just yell at your bakery?"

"Um...yes." Oliver shook his head, and worried about pulling away from the curb without getting his vehicle smashed from ongoing traffic.

"I've seen it all," Allen said. "These glasses better not be those large square ones that make my eyes all buggy an' scary."

"We will get you what you need."

Allen insisted, "They gotta be cool glasses."

Oliver glanced from the road to his passenger. "Of course. You can also get prescription contacts."

"Eugh, no! I don't wanna be touchin' my eyeballs all day."

The baker only sniggled in reply. A small general store greeted them, and he slipped from the car more quickly and willingly than the other man. He breezed around the car to clasp Allen's hand, towing him into the shop. "If you see anything you want, let me know."

"I already got what I want," Allen claimed, bumping their hips together.

Oliver squeezed his hand, leading him to a rack of glasses not to far from the entrance. "Dork." He seemed to be the only one truly browsing the collection. "Ooh, how about these? Are these your eye indicator, or is it too much?"

Allen blinked against the lens that his partner put in front of him. "Nah, it's better than without 'em, but it's still a lil' fuzzy."

The baker removed those glasses and gave him another pair with a much higher intensity. "These? Aren't they cute!"

"I ain't aimin' fer cute," the other man grumbled, but put the new lens before his eyes, only to flinch, pulling them away. "Wow, that hurt!"

"Too much," Oliver tisked, and grabbed something from the middle. "Try these."

Allen did, blinking in surprise. "Wow," he slowly looked around the store.

"I assume they are all right."

"Yeah, they're pretty all right." He turned his gaze to Oliver. A dopey smile reached his (bruised) face as he pinched one of his cheeks. "Look at you wit' all 'em lil' freckles."

"Quit it," Oliver lightly swatted at his invading hand, sniggling anyway. He pointed to the small mirror above the selection of other glasses. "You should look at yourself."

"What the fuck?" Allen demanded, curling his lips at his reflection. "You gave me the ugliest glasses they have!"

"I did not! They are nice!"

Allen ripped the glasses away. "They're ol' man glasses!"

Oliver snatched the lens, but gently set them back on their slot. "You complain like one, so they match!" He grabbed another pair, tipping them back experimentally. "What about these? They are glasses indoors, but if you go outside, they turn into shades."

"Shit, really?" Allen gingerly took the frames. "They got somethin' like that?" He saw the tag in the reflection. "They're expensive!"

"That does not matter. Do you like them or not?"

"They're cool." He put his hand under his chin to attempt an alluring expression in the mirror. "'Sup?"

"All right, stud-muffin," Oliver patted his backside. "If those are what you want, then we should keep shopping."

"Cool," Allen repeated, parading after him with the new glasses.

Oliver hovered by the selection of pet beds, and reached out to squeeze the soft materials. "I have been wanting to get a cat, or something to liven up the flat a little." Without a reply, he looked behind himself to see Allen gawking at one of the aisles. "Is there something that caught your attention?"

Obviously, as Allen stepped into the aisle, and out of sight. Oliver hurried to him, for his own safety. The other man reached to a high shelf to pulled down a giant rectangular shaped wrapper. "Ollie, look at this."

"It is chocolate."

"Yeah, but look at the size of this thing! There's gotta be like, a pound in here!"

"I am sure it is worth more than a few pounds."

He knew what was coming next. "Can I...can I get it?"

"Do you plan on eating it in one sitting?"

"What?" Allen snorted, glancing around the store. "That's stupid!"

"You would do it anyway."

"So?"

Oliver made a motion to surrender the chocolate. "I am getting some of it, too!"

"Sure. I won't feel bad 'bout eatin' it then."

* * *

 _Blehps_ :

Oliver lifted a hand to grab his (Allen's) chin, and bring his gaze level to his own. "Listen here, you little slut. This is my crib. If you plan on bringing any dope or prostitutes here, you better bring enough for the both of us!"

"Wowza! Sure thing, babe!"


	45. Chapter 44

You gotta be gettin' it somewhere. Family inheritance?"

"No."

"Do you sell stock?"

"Try again."

Allen slouched against his car door, glaring at the purple stop light. "You mug people."

"Do you really think I would do that?" Oliver tossed his passenger a broken pout. "Well, I don't," he said before Allen could open his mouth.

"Then how you gettin' all this cash?"

"I run the bakery!"

"Come on, Ollie. You ain't busy as you make yourself out to be."

"Hm, even if I was not, I will not tell you. I cannot have you running away on me again!"

"Do you know how suspicious that sounds? 'Sides, I already told you, I'm here to stay."

"Ooh, but this is really bad."

"You gon' tell me or not?"

Oliver shook his head.

"What the fuck."

"Fine, I will tell you," the baker murmured, trying to keep his voice low so he would not burst into mad laughter again.

Allen straightened. "Shit, really?"

"Yes," Oliver waited a suspenseful moment for a grin to stretch across his face. "I get a dollar every time you swear."

"Ugh, seriously!"

More giggling.

"Fine, who gives you these dollars? Little elves underneath your bed?"

"Yes! They have green hands and pointed ears."

"No they don't!"

"I lied," Oliver admitted. "They have normal ears like us."

"Ollie!"

"We are back home, darling." Oliver leaped out of the vehicle as soon as he cut the engine. He opened the trunk, excavating its contents before hurrying to the bakery's door. Allen snatched a few heavy bags as he struggled with the lock.

Before his partner could try again, the phone rung almost immediately as they entered. Oliver sighed lightly, rushing to one of the tables to set the bags down, and dart for the phone. "Hello, _Queen's Cupcakes,_ how may I help you?"

Allen gave him a 'I swallowed a lemon' face, but did not say anything as he took the bags to the kitchen. The other line announced in a low voice, "Oliver, it's Lutz."

"Oh, what do you need?"

"Something happened last night when Feliciano went to bed."

"Something bad?"

"No...Luciano is back."

Oliver widened his eyes. "No! Really?!"

"Really what?" Allen asked from the kitchen. Oliver swished a hand at him.

"Yes, really. I thought he would come back like...like some small, angry monster, but he was calm and happy about...whatever happened!"

"So him and..." Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Allen propped on the door frame, crossing his arms. "Him and his friend must have spoken to one another again, and reconciled."

"They must have!" Lutz exclaimed. "Luciano is wondering if you have a run to do tomorrow."

"I can do that. He wants to jump back in so quickly?"

"I guess. He hasn't told Kuro and I what _exactly_ happened. We're doing guess work over here. I just thought you wanted to know, so you aren't...startled by his return or anything."

Oliver put his fingers over his mouth to snicker. "Of course. I will see you then."

"Tomorrow," Lutz agreed. A wave of hospitality must have seized the Vargas household, Oliver concluded. Just as he set the phone down, a pair of arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Who was that?" Allen asked against his jaw.

"Do not fret over it," Oliver said, making a move for the kitchen, but was pulled back into place. "Allen."

"What? Why can't I fret over it?"

"It is not a big deal. I have to put away my groceries."

"Who was it?"

"Just someone calling in for an order!" Oliver angrily thrashed against his arms.

"Oh," Allen released him, causing the baker to stumble forward a bit, almost into the wall. "Why didn't you say so?"

Oliver tugged on his askew shirt, shooting back, "Why did you bother me so much about it?" Without waiting for a cheap reply, he whisked into the kitchen. "Lila?" He whispered to the air, surprised his fairy friend did not make an appearance yet. He had to shrug it off as Allen's agitated face peeked pass the doorway. "Did you need something?"

"What'cha doin'?"

"Putting away groceries, like I said I was going to." Trying to reconcile, he tossed a meek look in his direction, offering, "Would you like to help?"

"Well, it's my place, too, now, right? It'd only be fair."

Every time Oliver turned around, Allen was putting something in the wrong place. He did not know better, so when he managed to usher his company upstairs, he stealthily swamped the groceries to their correct positions. Just as the baker stuffed the last store bag into another bag full of bags, and shut it in one of the cabinets, the front bell rung. "What in the world?" He wondered aloud, since the bakeshop had been closed, and nearly locked all that day.

It was not a customer hovering by the main counter, but Lila, looking rumpled and slightly haunted at the same time. "Lila?" Oliver approached her, and braced against the plastic surface in worry. "You all right?"

"It's all good, Ollie. You have a visitor in the Realm that would like to see you. A rather demanding one, I may add."

"The Realm? Who could possibly want me in the Realm?" Oliver considered the other fairies wanted someone different to talk to, but Lila's urgency knocked that possibility away.

"See for yourself," she curtly suggested. "Please. I'll be waiting."

Lila withered into a clump of glitter that fell to the counter as she woke up. Oliver brushed it away before darting up the stairs. He went for the hallway, but Allen bobbled on the reclining chair a bit, asking, "Where you goin', babe?"

"To bed."

"Really? It's early."

Oliver glanced to the windows. The horizon had just swallowed the last remains of the summer sun. "Err...this is the time I usually go to bed," he fibbed. "I get up early." Without potential dissent, he ducked into the bedroom to pull out his night clothes. He fought with his shirt buttons, much too in a rush to meet his expecting company, and decided to leave half his top open. No creepers (besides Allen) were going to peek at him, anyway. The baker dove into his bed, about to spread across the middle, but then with a sudden realization, he scooted closer to one end, making room for a later occupant.

Making haste, Oliver smacked a fluffy pillow a few times before stilling. It had been several weeks since he had been in the Realm with a willing purpose, and he inwardly looked forward to enjoying its beauty once more. It was very quiet, and made him feel peaceful, as if all his real worries could not touch him there. They could not anyway-

"Hey, Oliver!"

The man blinked open his eyes, and a typical smile found his face. He pushed to a sitting position, turning to the small being fluttering around the grass. "Hello, Lila. What brings me here?"

The fairy shot to be at eye level. "Let's get to the flower patch."

Oliver was about to follow her, but when he made a move to rise to his feet, a crippling grip seized his mid-drift. He let out a choked gasp of shock, crumpling to the grass. Lila whipped around, and darted after him. "Ollie? Oliver, what's wrong?" She demanded in panic, and lightly tugged on his hair.

"I-I don't...something is interfering with the dream," he sputtered, his wistful smile turning to a evil glower. "I'll be back."

Lila sighed, "I'll be waiting...still."

Consciousness crashed onto Oliver in suffocating plunges. His eyes flew open to his dim bedroom, and he realized that it was not being awake that choked him, but rather his newfound bedmate's arms and legs wrapping around his body. "Ack, Allen, what are you doing?!"

Allen picked up his head from the hands trying to pry his limbs away. "I'm snugglin'!"

"You call this a snuggle?! You are strangling me! I just fell asleep!"

"Aw, shit, fine, babe." He wiggled away, all the way to the other side of the bed.

Oliver was left to rub his chest, and tossed a confused look over his shoulder. "You did not have to go that far."

"What do you want?!"

"Y-you can do what you were doing before, but maybe a _little_ less...enthusiasm...if that's what _you_ want."

"Yeah, I want that!" Allen crept closer again like a dog that was scolded. More lightly, he snuck an arm underneath Oliver's, and around his waist. "That good?"

"Better," the baker claimed, and flopped his head to his pillow. He closed his eyes with the Realm being one of the few things on his mind at the moment. However, the arm draped over him tightened for a moment of squeezing, and Allen's light laughter brushed over the nape of his neck, causing him to twitch his shoulders. Oliver bit his tongue, trying to fall asleep, since he was so importantly needed, but the hand rubbing his stomach, and the leg hitching over his hip was very distracting to the focus he needed to reach the Realm.

"Hey, Ollie?"

Oliver had to really try to not let out an irritable growl. Allen did not know better, and it was best to keep it that way. "Yes?"

"This ain't Bella's ol' bed, is it?"

"No, I threw out or sold most of her old furniture. This is a completely new mattress set."

"Oh, 'cause I was thinkin' that it'd be kinda creepy."

Oliver had to agree; Bella had passed on her own bed, after all. Not enticing further conversation, he made a noncommittal grunt, and pressed against his pillow again. His bedmate must have took the silence as a chance to decorate the back of his neck with sloppy kisses. The baker hunched up his shoulders, and furrowed his brows from the tickling sensation. "Stop that."

Allen only laughed against his skin, so he tried to elbow him. The other man grabbed the offending limb and gave it a good rub. He slurred, "I missed you, babe."

"I know, but please, I _have_ to fall asleep. I..." Oliver glanced around the dark room for a possible excuse. "I have to get up early tomorrow to run errands. I need to sleep."

"You gon' be gone all day?"

"Not all day."

"D'you wanna do somethin' tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Oliver tersely agreed.

Allen let out a big sigh, and flopped onto his back, away from the baker. Oliver scrunched the blanket closer to his chin, guilty, but as he said, the next day was a new one.

"About time!" Lila exclaimed when Oliver popped out of the grass upon his second return. Her agitation melted to worry. "Is everything all right? What was interfering with the dream?"

"Allen," was all Oliver said, hoping that would be enough explanation. "Where are we going again?"

"To the flower patch. It's coming in really nicely!" The fairy shook her head, zipping to eye level. "That's not what's important at the moment. Remember, we have a visitor."

For a fleeting moment down the slope, Oliver wondered if his mother wanted to see him again. Just because they had their own lives from one another, that did not quell a natural worry. However, Marionette never came out of the dark forest as far as he knew, but he knew who had. He slowed to uncertain steps as he gazed at the hooded figure hunched in the bright flowers.

Lila glanced to Oliver, and the teen balled his hands into fists, not making a move to come forward as the other rose to his feet. Pale hands flicked the hood back, unleashing a too familiar bedhead of light blond. "Hello again, Oliver."

"W-what are you doing here?" Oliver stupidly demanded. He inwardly flinched, knowing anyone is free to enter the Realm. "I mean, what are you doing asking for me?"

Arthur gestured to the flowers. "Sit. We should talk."

"We should?" The baker mumbled. Lila urged him with a small tug to his ear lobe, and he carefully settled beside his look alike as if the plants would snap at sudden movements.

"History likes to repeat itself," Arthur began without prompt. "You are well aware with what happened between Feliciano and his counterpart, right?"

Oliver resisted the urge to draw his legs to his chest in a defensive gesture. He stared the blond straight on. "Yes, and I heard that they solved their issue together, and are on amicable terms at the current moment. It seems to be a rather private matter between them, though."

"Yes, I heard that, too." Arthur gazed at the vibrant florals, burning their oranges and pinks with his green eyes. "Does...does it make you think?"

"About what?" Oliver asked quietly. He dared to figuratively reach out and whisper, "About us?"

Arthur sprouted a meek smile. "This whole thing between our worlds happening again had me thinking of the fond moments we had shared in the Realm."

"Me too," the other admitted, "but aren't you angry with me?"

"I was, but that seems so silly now. We're friends, are we not? Friends forgive one another." Arthur held up a finger before Oliver and Lila could make excited gasping noises. "However, I do not want to tangle ourselves in that mess again."

"Neither would I! D-do you really mean it? You would like to talk again?"

"I brought it up, did I not?" Arthur gave his head a small shake. He opened his mouth to say more, but Oliver did not wait to throw his arms around his look alike's shoulders. The fairy was almost flung off his head from the sudden lunge. "Ah! Well, I'm glad you think that way!"

"Why would I not?" Oliver quickly sat back again. "We shared many memories with one another just in the Realm!"

"I say! How does tomorrow night sound? Care for a little chit chat here and then?"

"Tomorrow is going to be a rather long day for me."

Arthur shrugged. "The day after then."

Oliver eagerly bobbed his head, yelping when Lila yanked on his hair in her attempts to stay on. The fairy spat, "Stop moving so much!"

"Nobody said you _had_ to be up there!"

"Eat grass," Lila unthreateningly suggested, making last readjustments. "I'll be here, too!"

"I look forward to it," Arthur claimed, rising to his feet.

Oliver rose more slowly, so his hair was not pulled again. He held his hand out, bouncing slightly on his heels. "So would I."

They exchanged a quick handshake before separating to their respective grounds. Oliver let out an embarrassing squeal of glee, legs shaking once he reached to his usual wake up spot. "Lila, this is absolutely splendid! I thought I would never see Arthur again!"

"Or that he wanted to see you again! I'm glad you two reconciled. It looks like it didn't affect just Luciano."

"Ah, well, I should get back now. You know how fast time goes by when you let it."

"Okay, Ollie. I'll fly by tomorrow or sometime."


	46. Chapter 45

It was not the sunlight that made Oliver open his eyes, but a snore rumbling against the skin where his shoulder and neck met. He sharply inhaled, and sighed against consciousness as a body nearly draped over his side. Allen must have tossed over sometime in the night, and pinned Oliver to the edge of the bed. He stared at the dark floor boards, knowing with a few nudges, he could fall face first onto its awaiting stretch. He gripped the nightstand, and tried sliding away from the arm and leg drooping over him. At his slight movements, a light laugh rose from Allen's throat as he dozed.

Oliver's ears pinked as he wiggled away some more. However, the arm hooked over his side pulled him right back to his initial position, tightening against his chest. Oliver scrunched his face, turning his head to glare in Allen's direction, who remained blissfully sleeping. He tried yet again, but suddenly the bed was alive with a sleepy rasp, "Come on, baby. Why you gotta move 'round like that?"

"I have things to do," Oliver reminded his bedmate, but only received a timid snore in reply. He wedged his hand beneath his pillow, which was also breeched by Allen's hand, and decided to linger for a few moments. It was probably too early anyway, based on the intense red filtering into the room between the window shade's cracks. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the supposed small wait, the baker snuggled back against his bedmate's chest. The generated heat was to blame when he opened his eyes with startled inhale.

The analogue clock on the side stand claimed it was almost two hours later than the time Oliver usually rose. He gasped, ripping from his imprisonment, and threw back the covers. "Oh no, what if they are here already?" He hissed to himself, making a dangerous dash to his dresser.

Allen snapped his head up from the invading blanket. "Whas dat?"

Oliver only glanced in his direction, not caring for once to be shy about shedding his clothes in front of him. He remembered that Allen most likely saw blurred colors, anyway, unless he reached over and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. Instead, his partner flopped back against the mattress, tossed an arm over his eyes, and smacked his mouth.

The baker hurried out of the bedroom, pulling his bowtie into place. He skittered to a halt in the middle of the hall when he realized he forgot his shoes. "Oh, gosh darn it," he lamely spat, and backtracked into the bedroom. Allen managed a grunt in greeting, but did not make an effort to move from the cozy bed when Oliver bent down to kiss his cheek before leaving the room with shoes in tow.

When he finally made it downstairs, Oliver threw his head in all directions, seeing that nobody waited outside the locked door. He let out a shaky exhale, calming himself with the prospect of baking a few breakfast treats. Once they were out on display in their proper cases, he ducked below the front counter where he usually kept his top secret hit list folders in a locked drawer. He managed to combine the information on the new target between Allen's return and the business with Luciano and Feliciano.

Oliver had just sealed the envelope when the trio of hunters entered the bakery. Luciano, not Feliciano, made the switch obvious with his much more smooth, less bouncy gait as they came forth to the counter. He showed a hint of a smile as Kuro and Lutz hung back with their eyes on the back of his head.

"Luciano," the baker greeted with a much more open grin. "How are you? Believe it or not, it is nice to see you here."

"Ve, thank you, Oliver. I have done something stupid, but everything turned out to be better than expected."

Oliver slid the folder over the light counter. "How so?"

"I do not want to ruin all the surprises," Luciano said, pulling the packet closer, "but I will tell you that is not the last of Feliciano you will see."

"Oh? I am glad you two reconciled." It somehow led to Oliver and Arthur to work on their own friendship once more. Oliver was more grateful to Luciano than he would ever know.

"Me too," the Italian claimed, turning away. He nodded to his housemates, and they absentmindedly copied the gesture. "We should head out now." The door closed with a loud squeak. The baker watched their departure through the glass windows with a fond smile.

"Ollie?" Allen's voice came from the top of the stairs. "Were there people just here?"

Oliver straightened from leaning on the counter. "Yes, dear. They are gone now." Loud feet clunked down the steps, revealing his own housemate, thankfully dressed, even in shaggy clothes. He eyed the other's jeans, ripped to expose the knees. "As I said, my days start early."

"Anyone we know?"

"Just people picking up an order."

Allen did not question it, bobbing his head up and down. He propped himself on the door frame, and scratched at his still bruised cheek. "I thought you had errands."

Curses, he remembered. Oliver trailed his eyes to the front windows. "I could do those later, after the morning goers come around. Some stop for breakfast." He lowered a hand to tap on the glass display below the counter, showing off an array of cookies, muffins, and other pastries to any newcomers.

"How later, were you thinkin'?"

"So curious," Oliver lightly jived. "An hour or two from now. Why do you ask?"

"Oh," Allen glanced away, shrugging lazily. "Nothin' I guess."

"You are up to something."

"I'm not. I'm just gon' chill out today."

"Hm," Oliver narrowed his eyes in mock thought. "Well, that's a shame. This evening, I have nothing going on. I wonder what I will do then..."

"Me?" Allen blurted. He blinked rapidly several times before sputtering, "Like, I mean...me as in a date. Do me a date. Let's go on a date or somethin', yeah."

Oliver sniggled from a line up of inappropriate possibilities. "You and what money?"

"Shit, babe, I hardly even got clothes on my back. That's why I asked you if y'could take me out." The other man stepped from the door frame, closer to the baker to grab his hands. "You could pay fer stuff, an' I'll make sure to hold your hands."

"My hands _do_ get awfully cold and heavy at times," Oliver mused. A pedestrian neared the bakery, and gazed at the open sign. "It will be my pick, though," he put in before the door opened, trying not to smile stupidly at how the delicious scent stunned the potential customer.

Allen slipped away, back into the foyer with, "Heh, of course, Ollie." He fled upstairs as a few others meandered into the bakery for a warm breakfast they did not have to make themselves. By the time the crowd outside thinned, his housemate was still upstairs doing who knows what, so in the meanwhile, Oliver snuck to the basement.

"You will need to tell him about this sometime," Luciano told him, eagerly taking his pay for his bodily efforts. "It's better than him wandering down here at the wrong time."

"Secrets," Nikolai giggled as he poked at the corpse.

Oliver ignored him, admitting, "I know, but Allen just came back less than a week ago. I do not want to dump everything on him right away."

"Sometime soon," Luciano insisted. "If he runs away, just give us a call, and we'll go hunt him down, and drag him back here."

"What a lovely offer. Do not be surprised if I take you up on that."

A spooky laugh emitted from the direction of the surgeon's table. Kuro asked, "Are we leaving now, Luciano-san?" Even Lutz appeared to be frazzled.

Luciano exchanged a startled look with the baker. " _Si,_ since we have our money and everything."

"Oh, before you go," Oliver put in, "I am having a party in a few days."

Lutz raised his eyebrows. "Another one?"

"To celebrate everyone's freedom, now that you are all out of jail. Matt came up with the idea."

"Matt? _Hm,_ sounds promising."

A loud snap of bone filled the room for a disgusting second. Nikolai glanced up to meet all their glares. "It was in my way."

Oliver swished a hand in dismissal, turning for the steps. "I will call you to give the details."

"Good idea," Luciano hurriedly gestured for his small team to flee. Oliver followed the same method of flight, but back up to the bakery's kitchen. He quietly propped himself against the front counter, pretending he never left. After a few uneventful moments, something clattered upstairs. He jumped, and shot a glare toward the foyer.

"Allen?"

"It's just a bowl," Allen shot down the stairs.

"What do you need a bowl for?"

"Makin' popcorn!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, but sprung a goofy smile. Sooner than later, he felt compelled to go upstairs, and spy what his company was getting into. Allen shoved his entire hand into the bowl, and lifted a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. The baker eyed the stray kernels dropping on the floor. He crossed his arms as the other man loudly munched on his snack. "Are you going to clean that up?"

Allen jumped, gripping the bowl protectively. "Holy fuck!" He managed through a full mouth. "I thought you were downstairs!" He glanced to the tiled floor, and plucked the popcorn from the ground, only to eat those, too.

"Eugh! Those have been on the floor!"

"So? You clean it, right?" Allen swished his free hand to the living room. "D'you wanna watch the weather channel or somethin'?"

"I have to leave soon," Oliver said.

His partner flopped onto the couch with a lazy growl. "Are we gon' go out later?"

"Yes, when I am done with everything."

"Why don't I go wit' you, so you don't gotta come back an' go out again? Ain't gas expensive?"

A lot of things were expensive in Allen's mind. Oliver thought of him seeing the cooler and having the same questions he once did for Anabella. "I-I do not mind the drive."

"Nah, really, babe. Just tell me when you're gonna go. I feel like a bum moochin' off you if you'd run everywhere fer me."

"Do not worry about it," Oliver weakly insisted. "We already agreed that you have your place making sure the flat is spiffy and spotless," without popcorn littered on the ground.

"Yeah, an' I guess cookin' dinner an' massagin' your feet after a long day is in that?"

Oliver jerked from the stairs, and gave his housemate a broad grin. "If that is an offer..."

Allen turned his head, pointedly staring at the opposite wall. "Do I have a choice? It'd be mean o' me, even if you forced me to walk 'round wit' a frilly pink apron!"

"Ooh, darling, you're giving me all these ideas!"

"Nuh-uh, they're not ideas...th-they're examples."

"Examples of ideas."

Allen did not heed to the short comment. "So, yeah, you don't gotta run to all these places, an' then come back, just to go out wit' me again. I'll come wit' you."

"Oh." Oliver chewed on the inside of his cheek. That entire conversation just went in a circle. He glanced to the stairs, contemplating in quietly leaving, but that may cause more problems than just bringing Allen along during the medical run. It was just a cooler, after all. He could come up with some excuse on the way there.

"You okay, babe?"

Oliver slightly jolted, realizing he was lingering on the landing. "Ah, yes, I was just thinking..."

A furious munch of popcorn jumped over the television's volume. "'bout what?"

"Um..." Oliver looked to the floor boards for answers. "Y-you in an apron, cooking dinner?"

"That's somethin', Ollie."

"Getting stains on your clothes sounds better to you?"

Allen only grumbled and wiggled around on his seat, his focus going to the television screen. A faint ringing erupted from below, too soft to be the bakery's bell. "I think the bell downstairs is ringin'."

"I know," Oliver breezed downstairs so no further questions were raised. He hurried to the basement so the ringing would stop, and Allen would not pick up that it was coming from somewhere else. Even when he was facing Nikolai, the operator shook it one last time for good measure. The baker felt his eyes through the goggles as he grabbed the cooler, adjusting to the heavy weight before scurrying away.

Right away, Oliver snatched the car keys, and took the goods to the trunk. He opened the car door, groaning how stifling the vehicle was from the summer sun. He started the engine, made sure the passenger side was unlocked, and shut the door. The thought of leaving Allen at the bakery popped up again, but he pushed it away like he pushed the door out to duck into the building.

"Allen, we should go now! Allen!"

"Jeez, hold on!" His voice was muffled from upstairs. "I'm comin'!"

"I will be outside!" Oliver waited against the side door, opting to breathe in fresh air rather than sizzling against the leather seats while the old air conditioning kicked on. Despite the possible excuses running in his mind about the medical run, when Allen pushed open the bakery's door, a timid smile rose to his features. However, the other man's eyes were on anything else but his.

"Damn, Ollie, did I ever tell you those shorts got me goin' all sorts o' crazy?"

Oliver could not stifle his delighted giggle. He really did not want to make excuses for his partner of any sort. "Getting ahead of yourself even before our date begins?" He raised his chin to be at level with Allen as he drew closer. He leaned forward, arms out on both sides of the baker to tent himself in front of him, but as soon as his palms made contact with the vehicle's metal, he flinched.

Allen danced away, shaking his hands. "Ow, shit! That's hot!"

If Oliver kept rolling his eyes, they would be lodged in an odd manner, but he had an idiot to blame if that happened. "What makes you think the outside of a car would be cooler to the touch than the inside, which is too hot for me to sit in?"

"I-I wasn't thinkin' 'bout that!"

"You were actually thinking?" Oliver raised his eyebrows, blinking in surprise. "You should be careful with that, dear. Thinking is a dangerous thing."

"Are we gon' eat or not?"

"Who says I am taking you out to eat?" Oliver grinned at Allen's groans of annoyance as he jammed his hands into his jean's pockets. "Maybe I was planning on taking you to a clothing department."

"Are you?"

"Well, you _do_ need new trousers."

"Huh? You talkin' 'bout these? Babe, these are new."

"They already have holes in them, though."

"They're supposed to be like that."

Oliver shook his head. "What? That is madness. Why would you buy already ripped clothes?"

"Uh...'cause they're cool?"

He pushed from the car, and opened the door. "We should go now." The baker slid over the passenger seat for the driver's side. Allen flopped into his seat much less gracefully, heavily sighing. Once his door was harshly closed, Oliver leaned over to press his lips against his bruised cheek. "Mister Cool Guy."

Allen rumbled like he did not want to laugh, but did anyway. He wedged his fingers underneath the tears in his jeans. "Are they _that_ bad?"

"If you like them, then wear them. I just think that since you are a young, handsome man, you would look dashing if you presented yourself as such."

"Dashing? What, am I goin' to a ball anytime soon?"

"Oh, quiet you," Oliver gripped the steering wheel to peer out the rear mirror. "I am sure Flavio can fix you up if you need clothes."

"I need money first."

"No, you do not."

"Come on, babe."

"I told you, it is not mooching...as long as that apron we were talking about earlier comes into play..."

~.~

~zoom~

~.~

"We are here. Stay in the car."

Oliver looked both ways down the crazy highway, escaped the vehicle, and got behind it before another zoomed by him. The doctors called out to him as they always do when he set the cooler on the sidewalk to close the trunk. Louis came forth to grab it, the usual cigarette dangling out of his mouth. However, this one was not lit yet.

The lady took the cooler from him with a sour look. With her other hand, she plucked the stick from his mouth. "What did I say about your cancer sticks? Did you just pop that one in your mouth?"

"My lungs, my business," Louis went to grab it, but she dropped it to the sidewalk, and crushed it to the concrete. The third doctor snickered, earning double glares. He dug in his pockets, and produced a wad of cash, which he waved in the air, coaxing Oliver toward him.

"I'm not talking about _your_ shitty lungs," the woman retorted. "Apparently your brain is rotting, too."

Oliver giggled, tucking the money into his shorts before glancing to his car. Allen stared at the trio with a vague expression of curiosity. The baker opened his mouth to say his farewells, but caught a mouthful of the stench of old smoke. "See what I have to put up with?" Louis' voice was too close in his ear as he set a palm against the teen's lower back. "Times likes these remind me why I do it."

"Did I _not_ tell you so many times long ago to stop bothering me? I do not like you."

Louis pressed closer. "You can learn how."

"Now look," the other man pointed out with an outstretched hand. "He's going to get lung cancer too, because of you."

Oliver tried to step away. He did not want to like Louis. He liked to dislike him. It was an odd exhilaration to have a petty enemy. The hand on his back clamped onto his shorts, causing him to yelp and shove away from the other man. The blond held up his arm, performing grabbing motions as the baker brushed off his rear. "Huh, there was nothing there."

His coworkers only rolled their eyes, sniggling from his usual antics. "Hey, hey!" Everyone snapped to Allen's voice jumping out of the car. He dangled out of the window, clamping onto the glass to spit at Louis, "Don't touch that ass! You hear me?"

Louis sighed, gazing at the sky. "I am hearing something, that is for sure."

"Allen get back in the car before you fall out," Oliver demanded.

The woman shot him a surprised look. "I think you should leave now."

"I think so, too," the baker grumbled. Allen was still shooting death at the doctors when he settled in the driver's seat. As the car pulled away, his stare did not cease until they were out of sight in the vehicle's mirrors.

His sat back in his seat with a low snort of disbelief. "What was that 'bout?"

"Yes, Allen, what was that about?"

"That guy touched you all creepy like!"

Oliver asked quietly, "That concerns you more than what was inside the mystery cooler?"

"That dude was creepin'!"

"Oh," he giggled, strangely flattered. "He is French."

"What's that got to do wit' anythin'?"

"I thought that would be enough for an explanation. He does that all the time."

"To you?"

"To everyone and anyone."

Allen let out a grunt as he eased against his seat once more. "So what was in the cooler?"

Oliver nibbled his own lower lip, but kept his gaze on the road. "Doctor stuff."

"Doctor stuff? Why you deliverin' doctor stuff if you bake shit?"

The baker's eyes flickered to his passenger. "It...it was what Bella used to do. Louis, the creeper man, is her grandson...was her grandson. So, it is sort of a family business I took over after she died."

"I thought Bella was a baker, too."

Oliver felt his throat start to thicken in threat of distress. "She was, but this is something she did on the side. I deliver...things to doctors. I am a courier. That is all."

"That's where you get your money? Doctors are rich fellas, aren't they?"

"Yes," Oliver replied quietly. The leather of the wheel squeaked in worry beneath his grip. "It is good. These things help people."

"I ain't complainin'," Allen said. He rubbed at his injured cheek before clamping onto Oliver's bare thigh. His leg gave a little jump, but nothing outshone the silly smile plastered on his face. "So how'd Bella die anyway? I know she was coughin' fer a lil' while..."

"Cancer. Bella had cancer, and it was spread throughout her body. She was rather stubborn about getting help, and she passed in her own home."

"Were you there, when she...you know?"

"Those doctors put her to sleep. None of us wanted to drag it out, and I am certain Bella didn't either."

"Aw shit," Allen wriggled around. "She was pretty cool fer an old lady. She had a really hard hit to her, though."

Oliver let out a little titter from the fingers petting his leg. "Maybe you should have behaved yourself more."

His company leaned over to ask against his jaw, "What's the fun in that?"

"You would not get hit by old ladies," the baker clenched his teeth so he would not squeak embarrassingly as Allen nipped at his skin. "I'm trying to drive here."

"Where are you takin' me?"

" _Ah..._ you will see when we get there."

Allen gave up his interrogation attempts with a soft sigh, and slumped against his door. He gazed out the window, and gasped as the car rode through familiar parts of town. "Is that the gelato place? Ollie!"

Oliver was already scrambling out of the car with a evil giggle. "Come on, love, before I order something without you!"


	47. Chapter 46

There were eyes on Oliver even as he entered the quaint shop. A chipper voice called out, "Ve, _ciao,_ Oliver!"

The baker stopped before the small line to the gelato counter. "Well, hello to you, _Luciano_ ," he winked. Apparently, Luciano had out of this world plans that afternoon, so his quick departure from the basement was not all in entirely to escape Nikolai's presence. A warm hand latched onto his, and Allen hovered against his back. "Fancy seeing the two of you here. Where did Kuro run off to?"

Lutz said, "He's looking for odd jobs. You know, in the meantime."

"Hey, hey," Allen drawled. "Whadda you guys doin' here?"

The blond gave him a blank look. "Getting gelato?"

"Gelato!" Feliciano sang, and reached up to tug on Lutz's square cap.

"We're 'bout to get some, too!"

"Really?" Lutz pulled his hat closer to his head so he would not lose it. "I did not know that."

Oliver gestured to the cashier, who was staring with dull, lifeless eyes. "You are up next."

"Since we're all here," Allen claimed, "why don't we go on a double date? Maybe chill out, an' watch the sunset or somethin' like that?"

Lutz whirled on him, and nearly shouted, "W-we are not on a date!" The surrounding customers snapped their heads in their direction, shooting glares at the disturbance.

Feliciano exclaimed with his hands clamped on his ears, "Whoa, so loud!"

"Shit, could've fooled me," Allen grumbled, and dug in his own ear.

Oliver suggested, "How about we have a _group_ outing instead. As friends."

"I just want gelato," Feliciano said. Lutz turned to the counter without another word. The brunet trotted next to him, and rambled off his order to the cashier.

Allen muttered, "He sure does make things obvious, don't he?"

"If Kuro, Matt, and Siegmund were here, we would have the whole ensemble," Oliver said, and used his shoulder to bump Allen's chest. "I was thinking about hosting a little get together soon."

"Heh, yeah, that reminds me of good ol' times."

"What?" Feliciano turned around with a healthy bowl of gelato.

"How we used to go out wit' the gang an' do stuff."

Feliciano tipped his head.

"Don't tell me you don't remember!" Allen exclaimed, "I wasn't gone fer that long!"

"He is just being silly," Oliver flashed an uneasy smile. "He remembers, don't you, Luciano?"

"Oh, yes, of course I do. _You're_ the silly one!" Feliciano glanced away, struggling with thoughts. "You...um...had a lot of gelato before, right? Or was that some other time?"

Lutz joined their little cluster. "That reminds me, too. You dropped yours all over the sidewalk that one day..."

Allen's eyes widened. "Yeah, what of it?"

"You were very pissed off about that," Lutz slowly continued, taking a spoonful at the end of every sentence. "Worse than what you would have been if you did not have a bet on it. Oh, what was it? Somehow it wound up being my fault for your ice cream ending up on the ground."

"That's horrible!" Feliciano cried. At the three sets on eyes on him, he tossed a spoonful of his dessert in his mouth to silence himself.

"It was horrible," Oliver agreed. "That was a lot of gelato."

"It was horrible since Allen never had the opportunity to own up to the bet he lost from not finishing his and Siegmund's gelato," Lutz noted, talking over Allen's feeble dissents. "You still owe us a streak."

"We were in jail! What the fuck do y'expect me to do 'bout it?"

Oliver shouldered his chest more roughly. "Own up to it?"

"Nuh-uh! The bet was that I had to streak through the House's dinin' hall! I can't do that now, so...hah!"

Feliciano asked, "Why not?"

"We do not live there anymore," Oliver pointed out. "I am sure they are not fond of visitors."

Lutz rumbled with quiet laughter. "There is the whole account of exposing and possibly traumatizing little kids."

"Come on y'all! There's gotta be an expiration date fer a bet!"

"Are you being a sore loser?" Feliciano giggled. "Sore loser! Alfred is a sore loser!" He paused, realizing what he said from a toxic stare from Oliver and Lutz. "I meant Allen."

"I ain't a sore loser," Allen barked back at the Italian's resumed dance. "Quit it!"

The cashier snapped, "Are you going to get some gelato or not? There are other people waiting behind you."

Oliver cleared his throat, dismissing his companions' antics. "Let's go, Allen," he latched onto his partner's bicep to pull him away from scathing Feliciano. "Make sure you do not drop your ice cream, either."

"That was one time!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Matt threatened his brother a few days later at the 'welcome back' party Oliver hosted in his bakery, "If you do not do it, I'll punch you...again."

"Shit, fer what?" Allen groaned dramatically, and even threw his head back, just to let his brother know he was annoying him. "Do y'all wanna see my glorious ass that much?"

"I may just have to take a bar of soap to your mouth," Oliver seethed, and latched onto the ear closest to him.

"Ow!" Allen clamped a hand over the offended lobe to ward off more attacks. "Why you gotta keep doin' that, babe?"

"Why do you insist on swearing like you have a toilet for a mouth?"

Lutz put his fingers over his mouth to hide a smirk. "Shit comes out of it like one, too."

"Fecal matter goes into the toilet, Lutz-san," Kuro shook his head. "What are you, some kind of wild beast?"

"Oh," Luciano tittered, "he's beastly all right."

"I am going to ignore that," his housemate said while the blond looked as if he were to pass out from embarrassment.

"What about the streaking?" Matt brought the subject up again, and kicked Allen's leg when it nicked his own shin. "I think there's plenty of space around here."

"I think you should shut your mouth!" Allen declared.

Kuro threw a fist on the table. "Stop shouting!"

"You just shouted!"

"Kuro, knock it off," Luciano spat. "Don't tangle yourself with that idiot. He'll destroy you with his idiot-ness."

"There ain't no such thing."

Oliver loudly cleared his throat. "I am going to start throwing cupcakes if none of you quiet yourselves!" The gathered group muttered a few more scathing remarks, but he snapped, "Belt up! Do not say anything else. Stop," They gawked at him standing over everyone else, demanding silence. It was _his_ bakery, after all. He slowly lowered himself into his seat again, not forgetting to shoot a warning glare around the table. "Now, back to more pertaining matters...the streaking."

"Babe, come on-"

Luciano pointed to the doorways behind the front counter. "He could go around there and straight outside, around the building, and come back to the rear entrance from that nearby alleyway."

"Nearby alleyway?!" Allen exclaimed, "That's down the street!"

"What are you, a sore loser?"

"Stop calllin' me a sore loser!"

Siegmund signed before sticking up his middle finger. Lutz agreed with, "Come on, like he said. We waited a year for this. More than a year!"

"You ain't gonna leave me alone 'bout this 'til I do it!"

"You said it," Lutz granted. Luciano agreed with a bobble of his head. Kuro glared at the table top.

"Let's go!" Luciano swished a hand in Allen's direction. "Not all of us have all day."

"Right now?!" All of them affirmed it. "What?!" Allen shot to his feet, angrily shoving his chair against the table. "Fuck you guys. This is all your fault, Lutz."

"I take my fault with ease, thank you."

"Where's he going?" Luciano asked. He craned his neck to the doorway Allen ducked under, away from them.

"Just wait," Oliver assured. "He probably has to prepare himself."

"Deep breaths, Allen-san."

Matt grunted, "You got anymore cupcakes? Or did my brother and Siegmund eat them all?"

The mute's mouth popped open, as if he were taking offense, but a guilty smile soon crashed his frigid expression.

Luciano lightly whined, "I only had two."

Kuro shrunk in his seat, and swept a near frightened glare at everybody else. He kept quiet as his housemates bickered over who got the most cupcakes. Oliver laughed at the four-way battle caused by his baked treats.

"Let's go!" Luciano repeatedly smacked his palms to the table. "Streak! Streak! Streak!"

Siegmund eagerly joined in with his on attack on the sprinkled surface. The baker gasped, and gripped the edge, glowering at the table jumping and wobbling beneath them. By then, Lutz was powerless to his deep chuckles, the loud laughter going through the hand over his mouth. Kuro only shook his head, condemning himself with a soft smile. Matt remained stone faced through the ordeal, even when he added to Luciano's chanting.

Allen emerged from the stair well, topless and pissed. The front counter blocked their views, and they fell silent with shit eating grins. "Yeah, keep smilin' all you want. I'm only doin' this once."

"Shame," Luciano sighed. "I forgot my camera, too."

"Yeah, shame," Allen ducked back in the doorway.

Lutz glanced around with a confused outlook. "What's he doing now?"

The partygoers waited for him to burst out in nude glory. The Italian snorted, "Is he even there anymore? Allen!"

Oliver declared, "I will go check." He called from the other side of the counter, "Allen, dear, are you all right over there? Allen!" With no answer, he rounded the counter to peek into the foyer. Only a pile of abandoned clothes hinted his housemate had not fled from the challenge. The baker breezed back into the front room, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. "He is not there anymore."

"What!" Matt jumped to his feet. "That must meant he went upstairs. That chicken-"

A muffled whoop came from above. They swung their heads around the bakery. Oliver pointed to the front windows as a large flash fell before the door. "Look!"

Everyone snapped to face Allen adeptly landing on his bare feet. Bareback to them, he held his arms out, head back, and howled like a rabid wolf. The passersby were traumatized as they froze and gawked with wide eyes. Startled people leaped out of the way just for him when the crazed man sprinted down the sidewalk.

"Let's see this!" Luciano summoned everyone else to press against the window. The naked figure of Allen and his arms swinging above his head ran further away. "Woo! I wanted more than a year for that!"

"It..." Lutz sputtered, "It's glorious."

Allen stopped in front of a random older woman. His arms flailed, words inaudible in the bakery, but he must have greatly frightened her. She clutched onto her purse, and swung it at his head. He jumped to the side with a loud holler, and continued through the street with his erratic gait.

Matt shook his head. "Look at that crazy ass go. He actually did it."

Lutz gave him a blank look. "Did you doubt your own brother?" Siegmund glanced between them with raised eyebrows.

"He always manages to take me by surprise." The other blond pulled away from the glass. "He should be through the back door soon."

"Soon," Oliver agreed, unable to stop grinning to himself. He used his sleeve to scrub at the smudges on the pane. "I would not want someone calling the police or a mental ward!"

The back door slammed shut, followed by another whoop. Kuro commented, "Sooner than expected." Allen caught onto something, based on the clattering and his cursing. When he finally waddled into the front room for everyone to see, the black haired man threw a hand over his eyes.

"My year of debt..." Allen stopped before the gathered mass with his arms held out for emphasis, "is finally over. I gotta get pants on."

The others watched him lumber behind the counter, and into the foyer. Luciano glanced in Oliver's direction, and the baker did not need to look at him to know he was smirking at his flushed complexion. "Got more than you bargained for?"

Lutz turned to Matt. "You two are really twins, right? Does that mean-"

Kuro loudly announced, "I believe we have found out more about each other than we should have today. If you do not mind, I would like to return home after a long day of partying."

"Whoop," Lutz went after his housemate. "There's our cue."

Luciano did a little wave. "See you around, Oliver."

"How about next Saturday?"

Everyone stopped gathering their leftovers and whatever they arrived with. Luciano's companions looked to him for answers. He shrugged. "Just for shits and giggles? Sure, we'll be there."

Siegmund swished a hand at his brother. Matt said, "I guess if you're having another gathering, we should be here, too."

"Yeah!" Allen drawled, creeping behind the counter to fight with his shirt. "That's my bro!"

"You know, for the cupcakes." Siegmund agreed with a vigorous nod.

"Fuck you, too, Matt."

"See you Saturday," Matt waved everyone off, and put an arm around the mute's waist to leave.

"Saturday," Oliver performed his own light wave, smiling fondly at their retreating figures.

"Son of a-" a loud clatter broke Allen's sputter. "Aw, dammit, that's the second one."

Oliver spun around, bristling. His eyes jumped to the bell dinger on the tiled floor. The shiny material was split down its side. "That was plastic! How in the world did you break it?"

"Heh, heh, whoops?"

With a low growl, the baker knelt in front of the poor bell, and picked it up to examine the damage. The entire object crumbled against his hand.

Allen peered over the counter, finally fully dressed. "To be honest, it was kinda ugly."

"It's a bell!" Oliver exclaimed as more pieces clattered to the floor. "How can it be ugly?"

"It's cheap. _Was_ cheap."

The baker deposited the destroyed bell into the trash bin before tugging the tag that stuck out of Allen's shirt. "Your top is inside out."

"Really? Allen twisted around, trying to grab at the tag peeking at the world. "Man, I just put this on, too." He peeled off the garment, and shook it, as if it had done him wrong.

"Not in the view of the windows," Oliver dissented, pushing on his bare chest. "Go into the foyer."

"Whoa!" Oliver yanked his hands away to hold them to his own chest as Allen itched the spots. "Your hands are cold!" He slowly reached out to touch the warm skin again. It was proving a tad difficult not to, as it was right there and available for attention. His partner jumped a little, and handed him a goofy grin. "Wassup?"

"You're hairy," Oliver said, even though Allen was nicked with several scars throughout his stomach, breast area, and back, but those were faint enough to not cause alarm.

"Uh, yeah," Allen mashed his eyebrows together. "So are you. We're dudes."

Oliver craned his neck down to press his face into his company's chest, and hide his wicked smile he could feel permanently plastered between his cheeks. "Maybe you should keep your shirt off."

Allen made a noise of rare thought as he slid his arms over the baker's shoulders. "Is that what you're thinkin' 'bout?"

The baker did not bother denying it as his nails lightly scored down the other's ribs, and baited with a squeeze to his waist, "If I am...?"

He inwardly prayed to whatever was listening for Allen to _not_ say something stupid. Heavy thinking had its taxations on the poor fellow, after all. He stuck his nose amongst Oliver's hair, and growled, "I could give you a lil' somethin'-somthin' else to think about."

Oliver's prayers were in vain, since he was keen on the idea whether it was stupid or not. "Allen," he lifted his head to invitingly giggle against his neck, "Is this something-something we have to take upstairs?"

"What d'you think?" His partner gently bumped their hips together, causing an excited tingle to jolt Oliver's nerves. Allen suddenly pulled away from him to swoop close to the floor. He grabbed the other's legs, stealing him from the ground with a gasp that soon crumbled to a fit of snickers that only encouraged him to the steps. "Fuck yes!"

.

 _Blehps:_

"You're hairy," Oliver said.

"Uh, yeah," Allen mashed his eyebrows together. "So are you. We're dudes."

"Maybe you are. I sexually identify as a refrigerator."

"Huh?"


	48. Chapter 47

"Matt! Matt! Guess what?!"

Allen's excited voice greeted Oliver's awareness the following morning. His housemate must have been talking on the phone, based on the lack of response. "No, you gotta guess!" Oliver looked around the floor for something to cover up with, and opted for the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door instead of the clothes strewn around his bed.

"What? No, I didn't fall down the stairs! Why would you ask me that?!"

Creeping out into the hall, Oliver casted a last glance to his warm bed before deciding to prop himself on a nearby wall, and wait out the conversation. "What the shit, Matt? Are you gon' guess or what? Fine!" His partner exclaimed, "I just got myself laid!"

A blush broke across Oliver's face, countering the cool air blowing around his bare legs. "Wha-"

"Uh, 'cause you're my bro?" The baker used the short moment of silence to ball his hands into fists. "I know a shit ton of people do it. I was just tryin' to make conversation! Eugh! I don't care what you and Siegmund do!"

Perhaps Matt could lash his brother for Oliver's sake. He smiled a little despite his looming embarrassment, knowing the blond was putting Allen in his place, based on his groans of annoyance.

"How 'bout I come over there an' kick your ass? You sound like y'need a good ass kickin'! Yeah, y'better be waitin'!" Allen slammed the phone on its receiver. Oliver pushed from the wall to take slow steps to the kitchen in order to ward of the possible suspicion of eavesdropping. The other man lumbered into view, and his frazzled expression melted into one of pleasant surprise. "Oh, hey, babe."

"Who were you talking to?" Oliver asked, despite it being obvious with all the shouting.

Allen's eyes flickered to his bathrobe before limply gesturing to the kitchen, "You know, just Matt. I gotta head over to his place, an' give him a good kickin' fer pissin' me off!"

Oliver padded closer, too attached to the warmth radiating from his partner's still bare chest. "Were you planning on leaving now?"

"When I get dressed, yeah." Allen furrowed his eyebrows from the weird look Oliver felt that was permanent on his face. "Why?"

"Oh," the baker made sure his sigh blew across his partner's collar bones, "I was thinking of drawing a nice...hot shower...for two." He reached one arm around the back of Allen's neck while the other hand fiddled with the waistline of his salvaged boxers. "How's that sound?"

Allen seemed to forget how to think. "I...uh...I was gon' go..." he trailed off as Oliver's nails sunk into his skin with the slightest pressure, but he tipped his head, smiling innocently. "I was gon' call Matt back real quick, so he ain't hangin'."

"Good," Oliver raised his hands to pat his cheeks. "I will get the water running."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Later on that morning, Luciano offered Oliver over the phone, "Since you are the host for the past like, three parties, I can bring some food. Believe it or not, Lutz can bake cakes, very good ones, I must add!"

"Ooh, give me a break from washing all those dishes..." Oliver tapped his fingers against his mouth in thought. "If you are offering..."

" _Si,_ and Kuro can bring balloons or something. You know, the more we talk about this, the more excited I get! We can work together and make a party like they do in that other universe!"

Oliver began quietly, even though he was the only one in the bakery at the moment, "Luciano, this is not just a random gathering. I hope to achieve a loose meeting-like party, where we can start talking about more serious things."

"Really? Like what?"

"I was thinking something casual at first. Something to make our peers open themselves up a tad more. Like you with your art, for example. I want our friends to be more comfortable and open with one another."

"Then we can move onto people outside!"

"I knew you would understand."

"You are not the only one with crazy ideas, Oliver!"

"There has to be other people out there. They need to learn to be unafraid. Even on a small scale, it would be marvelous to make a difference."

Luciano gasped excitedly, "Everyone can pull those sticks out of their asses!" Oliver flinched, and pulled the phone from his ear to put it against the other one. "Oh, good morning, Lutz!"

His housemate must have made an appearance. Oliver heard him sputter, "Feliciano?"

"Um, no. What, you can't even tell us apart now? Why don't you stop being stupid, and make a cake for Oliver's upcoming party?"

" _Ja,_ you're definitely Luci."

"So, anyway," Luciano focused on his phone conversation. "You have to get Matt and Siegmund to bring something, too. Maybe some chips and dip?"

At first, Oliver thought of French fries. "Oh? Oh," he shook his head. "I will talk to them next."

Lutz's voice reached the phone, "Plotting with Oliver again?"

"Don't you have a cake to bake?"

"I don't have a choice, really..."

A figure whisked by the front windows, and ripped open the door. The baker quickly sputtered, "I need to go. I am getting a customer."

"See you Saturday-" Luciano's statement was cut off by Oliver setting the phone on its receiver. Speaking of talking to them next...

"Siegmund! What brings you here?" Oliver tipped his head in concern as the mute's mouth gaped open and close. He was not there for cupcakes, based on the flush on his chalky face from running in the heat, unless he had a desperate craving. The baker snatched an old print out from a spindle by the register, and a pen. "Write it down on this receipt."

The other man grabbed the stylus, and furiously scribbled on the paper. He flipped it upright, showing Oliver what he wrote. 'Matt has gone out to do something with Allen. Tried texting, and even a call, but he won't pick up.' He added a little frowning face.

When Oliver glanced up to meet his urgent gaze, Siegmund's expression matched his drawing. Allen had just left no more than two hours ago, and could possibly getting into trouble, but he did not want to jump to conclusions. "Something stupid? Siegmund, are you sure they are not being their usual selves?"

Siegmund slapped the receipt back on the counter, and the pen scratched across the sheet. 'NO TIME.' He did not hold it up again; the large letters were clearly visible. He dropped the stylus onto the counter, and left Oliver to catch it when it rolled away, matching its wielder's escape.

"W-wait!" The baker further abused the pen as he recklessly tossed it in the direction of the cash register, and pelted after Siegmund. His bony shoulder crushed against the glass door was it swung open. He took a quick pause to twist the lock, and let it close by itself. He growled, "I thought we established the fact that none of us like running." He chased after the glimpses of white peeking through the passersby that ambled so patiently around him. They were not kind enough to move for them, and instead glared in confusion and sanity.

Oliver tried calling out, but had to jerk to the side to avoid a burly business man who was too busy snarling in his phone to acknowledge him. The baker huffed, and cut across a woman pushing a stroller to dive into an alleyway. He crouched close to the biting asphalt, and dug in his trousers for a stick of chalk. "My apologies, Siegmund, but I have to do what I can in times like these." The tip scratched on the hot ground for one summoning sigil, and other for teleportation.

He slipped the chalk back into his pocket, and inhaled to brace himself. A clasp of light shot from the first circle, strong with the natural sunlight. The symbol produced a bewildered Siegmund, who stumbled away from it, and into the adjacent building. The mute jumped from the gray bricked surface, tossing his head in all directions. His eyebrows mashed together when he spotted Oliver crouched over a strange design on the asphalt.

"You did not hear me calling out to you," Oliver claimed. "I have a way to get to our boys quicker than our feet can. Would you mind?"

Siegmund was keen enough to situate himself in the middle of the second circle, nodding. The baker put a hand on the brick wall to rise to his feet. "Then let us make haste." He hooked an arm around his company's, and muttered, "Pardon the intrusion, but this is necessary."

The other man nodded again, despite the worried grimace he wore on his face. It worsened as Oliver began chanting odd phrases. Their eyes jumped from one another to the pedestrians obliviously passing by, too caught up in their own world to worry about theirs. Oliver told the circle, "Take us to Allen and Matt." Siegmund flinched when a snap of light blinded them before the darkness of a new alleyway immediately took over.

The grimy walls of decaying grays chased them from the foul lane, and into an equally uninviting street in desperate need of renovation. The mute tightened his arm around the baker's, and they took a quiet step onto the broken sidewalk. "This is horrible," Oliver whispered, constantly looking all around them as if some rancid soul would leap from one of the surrounding apartment buildings. "None of us have a reason to be in this part of town again."

Last time, a spy mission was necessary to find out what Crookednose's gang was up to. At the current moment, none of that worry was necessary. As they crept down the desolate street, Oliver felt a heavy weight sink from his stomach at suspicion of what his partner and his brother could possibly getting into. Siegmund shot him a strained look when he accidently bumped into him, and detected a sheath of a blade or some sort beneath his baggy sweatshirt.

Both tensed as something scratched on the ground. He yanked Oliver against the closest building, and the rough material bit into his clean clothes. The mute pointedly stared at nearby opening to another alley as the owner of the noise spoke up, "What gives? Are you still pissed at me?" At first, the duo glanced to one another, wondering if the stranger was talking to them, despite being out of sight. The nasally voice continued, "Tough shit, that was more than a year ago. Things change, or at least I have."

Oliver murmured, "I wonder who he is talking to." Siegmund crept closer, as if to find out, and he followed closely behind. His company peeked into the side street, only to snap back against the stone wall. "Was someone there?"

Siegmund nodded, then shrugged before the baker could ask more questions.

A lower voice rasped, "You sure? So many in the past had said the same thing, only to prove themselves wrong when we turn our backs."

"Yeah!" A loud tone baited, "You're just sayin' that 'cause you don't got your buddies wit' you now!"

Oliver's jaw clenched as Siegmund gave him a blank look. They had found their significant others. Both glowered toward the alleyway as the stranger announced, " _Some_ people grow up."

"What?" Allen snorted, "it ain't like that no more? You're a better person all o' a sudden?"

"I don't have to hear this," the other man snarled. "I don't have to make anything up to the likes of you two, both still the same idiots I remember from the House." He began approaching Siegmund's and Oliver's spot, revealing the unmistakable bumped nose that was plastered in the middle of his gnarled face.

Siegmund slipped away from Oliver to step into view. Their old fiend skittered to a halt, and his eyes widened. He tossed a glance between the two groups. "What the fuck is this?"

Oliver hurried to the mute's side, glaring pass the middleman. "That is what I would like to ask."

Both brothers' jaws dropped. Allen sputtered, "Ollie? What are you doin' here?"

"Trying to find the answers to that question."

Crookednose nervously glanced to all of them, but still wore that horrid snarl to warn not to provoke him, despite being outnumbered.

Oliver continued, "Is there a reason you followed this man to these parts, or were you not thinking once again?" Siegmund tossed a worried look in his direction as his voice weakened. He cleared his throat, trying not to falter to angry tears because of him, since they just woke up from bliss several hours prior.

Allen's expression soured, and he jerked his head toward Matt. "It was his idea."

Matt lashed out, walloping his brother in the back of his head hard enough for his sunglasses to try flying lessons. "Fuck you. You were the one whining about the little shit."

His twin clamped a hand on the offended area, and plucked his shades from the asphalt, lamely retorting, "Fuck you."

"Fuck you!"

Allen simply spat, "Fuck!"

Crookednose loudly sighed. "Can I leave now? I am losing brain cells by the second."

Siegmund glanced to Oliver, as if it were his decision. The baker beckoned, "This way. I need to give them a thought or two, and you would do well to get away from it."

The other man stuffed his hands in his jean's pockets, breezing past him and Siegmund. "Have at it."

None of their old unpleasantries were exchanged. Oliver watched his old fiend sharply turn to the street, sparing him a silent appraisal. However, he had to turn around to face a completely different level of maturity. Allen slowly held up his hands, and muttered, "No sudden movements."

Matt copied the gesture. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

Oliver answered for the both of them. "I do not know what to do with you, that is how deep in trouble you are in!" Siegmund agreed to the spittle ungraciously flinging out of his mouth with his own slow shake of the head.

Allen cleared his throat, forcing down a snicker. "Yes, mom." His brother shot him a look that could have meant anything behind his glasses.

The baker scoffed at the comment, and spun on his heel to leave the squalid alley. "We are leaving this place." Hopefully, for whatever reason, none of them would be back.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Oliver made no attempts to pass himself off as sleeping that night. The footsteps pattering into his bedroom suddenly stopped, and their heaviness was replaced by a deep sigh. His shoulders remained tense when the mattress dipped beneath him, squawking from the intrusion. He gritted his teeth as the blanket pulled against his body in small, timid motions, as if to avoid confrontation, but for his poor bedmate, he was already provoked.

When Allen pressed closer, he lifted an arm to settle over Oliver's side. A hand lashed out and smacked his away. The other man jerked, and yanked back as if the sting hurt more than it really did. The sliver of moon struggled to light the room, but Oliver knew that would not prevent burning eyes from boring into his dark form.

Allen disturbed the darkness with a low grumble, "Ollie."

Oliver did not make any detectable movement, save for his shallow breaths.

"Ollie, come on." With another lapse of silence, Allen tried again to ease closer, but Oliver flipped over to shove his chest.

"What do you not get? Leave. Me. Alone."

His bedmate shot to a sitting position. "It's that big o' a deal?!

Oliver glowered at his broad silhouette for a fierce moment before heavily flopping over once more. "I am trying to sleep."

"Ollie!"

He snapped up, cutting the night air with a sharp exhale through his nose. His bedmate remained stiff in his upright position as the hot breaths slapped his chest, warning of any movement. "The first thing you do is run off to beat your brother, as if that was not stupid enough, but I let that slide, not believing for a moment that you would wind up doing something even worse! Then, you proceeded to stalk somebody into one of the most dangerous areas in town!"

Allen lamely explained, "It wasn't just a random somebody."

"What were you hoping to achieve? Knock him around a few times, let off some steam? Were you so overcome with anger that when you saw him, you could not help yourself?"

"M-Matt and I had shared some drinks beforehand...babe, we weren't thinkin'..."

"Oh! You were tipping bottles before it was even noon!" Oliver scoffed, but the noise crumbled to a choked sob. "No, you were not thinking." He weakly swiped away the hand that crept toward his, and twisted around to angrily scrub at his watering eyes. "Why would you..."

"Babe, I won't do it again. Babe!" Allen repeated, trying to get the other man to look at him again. "I promise! No, wait, promises are for pansies. I...I _vow_ not to do it again. Yeah."

Oliver slowly slumped against the mattress, still not facing his bedmate. "How could you be so stupid?" He asked aloud, mostly to himself.

"Aw, shit, don't cry! I won't drink before five! In the evenin', I mean."

"Get away," the baker mumbled, smacking his partner's fingers when he leaned against him.

"Stop cryin'."

"Stop doing stupid things!"

"All right, all right!" Allen shot up, and quickly scooted away at his shout. "I-I'll stay on this side o' the bed then." He was silent for a soundless moment. "Ollie? Ollie, I'm sorry."

Oliver bunched his pillowcase in his fist without picking up his head. He pondered if apologizing _really_ did anything to better the situation. After all, how many times had his father apologized to his mother, only to end up the way they did? The man did not witness many other outcomes, save for those sappy ones in fictitious romance novels. Despite his anger and dejection, he felt as if he needed, perhaps both of them needed to think long and hard on what to do about something like this, and what to do to prevent it from happening.

Certainly not that night, though. Oliver needed to let himself steam without risking in getting more irritated from his bedmate. However, his silence, which was very good for him, must have tore Allen in distraught. "Ollie, please." His voice waned, "Are you...are we...are we breakin' up?"

Only that statement was able to make Oliver snap open his eyes. He turned his head to give his partner's looming shape a sour look. Out of the possible outcomes he racked himself in, _that_ one did not shoot by once. He furiously whispered, "Why would you ask that?"

"I...well...'cause you're all pissed off an' everythin'..."

"I have every right to be!" Oliver hit his pillow a few times to fluff it, but stopped to gawk at the pale fabric. "What makes you think that would be what it takes to do such a thing? U-unless...you want to?"

"Fuck no!" Allen smacked the mattress on both of his sides, as if his shout did not convey his thoughts on the matter enough. His shoulder's slouched, and he murmured much more quietly, "No, I don't want that."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"Couples had broken up for less."

"Those are other couples."

"So...we ain't breakin' up?"

Oliver loudly sighed, and flopped his head into his pillow. "No, Allen." He jabbed a finger in his bedmate's direction when he began creeping closer. "That does not mean I am not _furious_ at you. Stay on your own side of the bed."

"Uh...yeah, sure...I guess..."


	49. Chapter 48

Oliver had awoken by himself, and internally debated whether that was relieving or worrisome. He demanded the silence with a fierce hiss, "What are you planning now?"

Of course, it did not respond, so he had to pull himself from his comfortable bed to lumber into what he expected to be a cold hallway. He took a deep inhale, furrowing his eyebrows as an appetizing smell wafted in his face. He figured right away Allen had somehow made him breakfast for his first attempt of reconciliation, unless he forgot there was another hungry stomach other than his own under the bakery's roof. A generic course of action, but Oliver was curious, none the less.

Swallowing the pool in his mouth, Oliver rasped, "Allen?"

Something metal clattered on the kitchen tiles, prompting a slew of curses. Allen let out a loud groan, and the dropped object scratched the ground as a quick hand snatched it away. "Stay in there, Ollie!"

"What in the world are you up to now?"

"You'll see! It's a surprise!"

"A surprise!" Oliver echoed, unimpressed with how poorly the supposed surprise was covered from his senses. "You better not burn down my flat!"

"I'm not! Just stay away right now, okay?!"

Oliver glowered in the direction of his housemate's voice for a stiff breath before easing with a sigh, and treaded back into his bedroom. To pass the time, he fidgeted with the covers, and glared at Allen's pillow as it had done him wrong. He lost the staring contest when he snatched it into his arms, and fell onto the mattress with his face buried in the firm material.

"Such an idiot," he mumbled in pity. The cushion's lingering scent tempted him to drop his hostility and embrace the real thing. However, Oliver knew he was much more stubborn than that, and curiosity urged him to find out what distances Allen would go to reach forgiveness. He reasoned with himself that, "I cannot help being angry anyway. That is what he gets for being stupid."

"Babe?" Allen's voice came from the far end of the hall. "When you're done talkin' to your fairies, you can come out to the kitchen!"

Oliver fumbled with the pillow to tuck it beneath the bed sheet in case his partner walked in on him performing black-mailing material. "I-I was not-"

Allen called again, still in the hall. "Ollie, come on! You can't wait too long!"

"Oh, all right," the baker grumbled, and heaved off his bed to stamp down the hall. The delicious scent eased his angry steps into quiet patters by the time he entered the dining area. "Oh wow," slipped out, and he nonchalantly put his fingers over his mouth in a inquisitive gesture. His gaze drifted from the plethora of breakfast foods flooding the island counter to the more delectable sight (though he would not say that aloud during their strain) of Allen wearing an apron with enough frills and flowers to put a doll's dress to shame.

"Hey, baby," he dared to toss in a wink. "Like what you see?"

Oliver immediately turned to the nearest bowl of fruit, but his reddened cheeks betrayed his cold exterior by making the scarletberries appear dull. "Where in the world did you get that?"

"The apron? Haw, haw, Matt let me borrow it."

" _Matt_ did?"

"Uh, yeah," Allen shook his hands excitedly. "So whadda y' think, hun?"

"It is a start."

He crept closer, still grinning like he won the lottery. "I guess it's a good thing I got other ideas!"

"That sounds like trouble," Oliver growled, and turned his head away when the other man leaned down to kiss him. However, Allen was not deterred, and opted for the flushed cheek exposed to him.

"Don't be so salty, babe."

Oliver set a palm against Allen's chest to push him away, and inwardly sighed at the lost of heat. "How did you make all of this anyway? I would not think living on the streets would allow opportunities for gourmet cooking."

Allen's eyes shifted around the kitchen as he backed away until he was against the counter. "Uh...years of watchin' people."

"Or rather a few moments to browse some old cookbooks of Anabella's?"

He promptly shoved the book that was resting on the counter to hide it behind his back. "What? Does that mean you ain't gon' eat it?"

"I did not say that." Oliver snatched an empty plate that was waiting for him, and began browsing the overwhelming stack of hotcakes. "I cannot let it go to waste, anyway."

"You can lay waste to my heart, but not food?" Allen clamped a hand over his chest. "That's ice cold!"

Oliver had to twist his expression to make it look like he ate a lemon to prevent giggling. "Be quiet, you dork."

"Yeah, love you, too."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

While Allen was occupied with tackling the mess he made from breakfast, Oliver snuck down to the basement to meet up with Nikolai. The newest body was promising, but that was not why Luciano was bouncing on his toes. "Party time!"

Oliver said, "That is tomorrow."

"I know, but I'm getting excited now."

"I made cake," Lutz announced. "I just need to put icing on."

Kuro spoke up, "The balloons are waiting in my bedroom."

"What is this?" Nikolai called from the metal table. "A party? Am I invited?"

The trio turned to Oliver. He dropped his eyes to his intertwining fingers. "Are you going to bring party favors?"

The surgeon reached inside the body's open cavity, and pulled out something that dripped dark red on the table. "Party favors!"

Everyone let out disgusted groans. Kuro clamped a hand over his mouth and hurried out of the basement while Lutz was left to sputter, "What the fuck?!" Luciano looked like he was about to scream or cry, or both.

"See you three tomorrow," Oliver declared, his back to the operator. "I am going upstairs now."

" _S-si,_ " Luciano was guided to the tunnel by his housemate. "Good idea."

"Aw," Nikolai was heard saying, "What about the party talk?"

When Allen was occupied with tackling the mess he made on himself from breakfast, Oliver unwillingly met up with the spooky Nikolai to pick up the cooler full of supposed 'party favors.' The harvester asked, "Am I really not allowed at your party?"

Oliver glanced in his direction from the stairs, only to look away as if the sight was fatal to experience. "I-it is not much of a party, but rather than an informal meeting. It is supposed to be small..."

Nikolai shook his head, and turned back to clean his tools from their gore. "Do not make excuses. If you do not want me to come, then tell me." Then muttering, "It will be more than what other people would do."

"Do you not realize how frightened you make other people? That could be a good factor for their actions toward you."

"But it is fun!"

"That is why nobody wants to invite you to their parties."

"Harsh!" Nikolai scathed. "Just like those little candies that are very sour at first, but sweet when you bite into them, but the opposite."

"Err...okay?"

"Oh! That gives me an idea!"

"Are you going to scare people?"

"That was not my idea. I will not, at least, not on purpose."

Oliver nudged the cooler from the concrete floor, and grunted from its weight. "If you will behave yourself, then you can come, I suppose. Make sure you dress in anything but what you are currently wearing."

Nikolai gasped. "Really? Yay!" His cheeks were puffed in a broad smile from Oliver's news, but soon deflated from his eyebrows mashing together when the baker gripped the cooler for a not-so quick escape. "Why you not smile?"

"Pardon?"

"You smile and laugh all the time, but not now! It kind of creeps me out."

Oliver exclaimed in disbelief, "It creeps _you_ out?!"

"Yes! It must be bad to creep out the creeper! You have beans to spill!"

"Must I?!"

"Yes!" Nikolai repeated. "You tell me secret, and nobody else knows."

Oliver lowered the cooler to the concrete floor again. "I never said it was a secret."

"Then why are you so stubborn to not tell me?"

"Because I do not have to!"

"Not even if I said please?"

Oliver clenched and unclenched his jaw to level his tone. "It is not something you would be interested in listening to."

"Please?"

"My partner and I had a disagreement."

"Oh!" The operator acted as if the sun shined on all his confusion. Perhaps some internal star did, indeed. "That upset you! It must have been a bad fight, then!"

"No, it is still going on. He was being an idiot, and is trying to make it up to me."

"Then why are you sad? That is a good thing!"

"He might do it again!"

"Ah, you found yourself a stupid one," Nikolai ticked his tongue with a sigh. "What a shame. Those are so easily handled, but what could I do to help? No one likes to find out."

"You do not need to concern yourself in my arguments."

"It affects all of us, actually. If you are not yourself, then those bad feelings will spread. It will be very unpleasant to be around, so you let me help you, yes?"

Oliver did not want to find out if he had a choice in the matter or not. "What would you do?"

Nikolai, despite his goggles and face mask, never looked more happier. "I have learned that fear is one of the best forces of motivation. It is basic and common, but for good reasons. It can lead to better things, like the black-mailing, and manipulation."

"Okay," Oliver watched the scalpel the other man was wielding wave back and forth with his motions. "How am I going to _safely_ instill fear into Allen to prevent him from running off to do something thoughtless again?"

"I do not need to know specifics," Nikolai said, even though Oliver spared a lot. "We can use what we have here to teach him a thing or two. What is he afraid of? It has to be something that causes a good reaction."

"Without marring him, preferably." Oliver kept glaring at the tool the surgeon was scrubbing until he slipped it into his squared bag. "I would assume he is afraid of losing his brother, but..."

"Too big! I thought you want to be safe! Something we can work with here between the two of us."

"Oh, well, that is easy. I mention ghosts once, and he looks like he is about to vomit."

"Ghosts!" Nikolai clapped in delight. "That is a very fun one! Do the ghosts play along with other ghoulish beings, like dead bodies?"

"I cannot say for sure..."

"He might not even know what he fears. Good. I have a solid idea now, Oliver, but I need you to be able to keep what they call a poker face through the plan."

Oliver finally grinned, but he felt it was more of a sinister intent than a happy one. "I am listening..."

~.~

~BOING!~

~.~

During his organ run, Nikolai would work on their joined prank. After some moments of collaboration and settling some minor disagreements, Oliver left the basement in a much brighter mood. Breezing out of the bakery and buzzing with excitement, he almost dropped the cooler over the sidewalk when he struggled to open the trunk of his car. He thought of what would have happened if the cooler _did_ tumble to the concrete, popping open for the guts to spill onto the street, and wound up chuckling lowly to himself.

His fit snapped to a gasp of realization. "Oh, drat, my keys."

"Babe?" Allen called from the steps, "Hey, babe!"

"I am leaving now!" Oliver shouted back once he obtained his car/bakery keys.

"Wait, what?!" His housemate stormed down the stairs, confused, and only wearing a towel around himself. "Wha'd'you mean you're leavin'?!"

Oliver skittered to a stop in the middle of the front room. "I am running errands. Where did you think I was going?"

"Oh," Allen propped himself on the foyer doorway, and his frightened expression fell into an easy grin. "You gon' be long, babe?"

Hopefully not _too_ long, but he would not dare hint at the upcoming surprise! "Why, so you can misbehave?"

Allen whistled, and pushed from the doorframe. "Woo, that's mean!"

"If you were not such an idiot, I would not have to be," Oliver insisted. He stepped back as the other approached him, and tossed a shocked glance to the glass lining the front wall. "Hello! There are giant windows behind me! Why would you come downstairs when you are so indecent?!"

"If I got dressed, I would have missed you!" Allen suddenly sprung forward, and threw his arms around Oliver. "I'd think you take the chance to get away from me!"

"As if!" The baker scoffed, shoving against the still damp chest in a feeble attempt to flee his heated embrace. "I am not leaving my shop behind, if that is what you are implying! I said quit it!" He snapped, and tried wiggling away from the relentless kisses splattered all over his face, anywhere they could reach against his struggles.

"You quit it," the other man muttered, trailing down a freckled cheek to his lips, but Oliver turned his head in the opposite direction.

"I am still mad at you!" He spat, and ducked his head from the seemingly unending assault. Whenever he pushed Allen, he was squeezed even more, and the more he was squeezed, the angrier he became. "What do you not understand?! Bad boys do not get kisses!"

"You can give me one, an' still be mad at me!"

Allen started making annoying smooching noises with puckered lips, and Oliver groaned in feint disgust. "What did I just say?! Let me go! I have errands to do! You are only making things worse for you!"

"One kiss, come on, baby."

Oliver clasped a hand over his partner's mouth. "No." Whatever Allen was trying to say was muffled, so he licked the baker's palm. "Go ahead," he baited, "Now I am _definitely_ not kissing you."

Allen craned his head away so he could sputter against the fingers digging into his cheek. "Oh, so you were gon' do it?!"

"I did not say that!"

"Do I got to beg?"

"Please don't."

"Then gimmie a little somethin'!"

Oliver sighed heavily, as if defeated. "Only if you get pants on."

"Right! So come here!"

"After you get something on!"

"Nuh-uh! You gon' run out while I'm upstairs!"

Drat, Allen _may_ have more brains than Oliver thought. "Fine," he spat from the cramps running up his wrist from the strain it took to deter his partner's stubbornness. "You will have to catch me first!"

"But I already-"

From the other side of the counter, Oliver breathlessly laughed from his successful teleportation _without_ a chalk drawing. Sure, it momentarily winded him, but by the time Allen managed to turn around, and realize he was no longer in his arms, the baker pushed from the wall and fled into the kitchen.

"How the fuck did you do that?!" Angry bare feet stamped on the tiled floors. "That ain't fair! You can't use voodoo magic!"

Already at the corner of the alley behind the bakery, Oliver faced the other man that just stumbled from the back door. "Well, I told you that you cannot kiss me, and look how that turned out." Not allowing any time for Allen to catch up, he spun on his heel, and shot to the sidewalk. With a giddy squeal, he ripped open his car door, dove over the seat, and slammed it shut. Just as his partner slammed into the window, he pushed down the old locking mechanism, laughing in delight how the other angrily tugged on the handle. Not only that was proving hilarious, the pedestrians' reactions to his near nudity (yet again) made it even better.

"Come on!" Allen groaned from the other side of the glass. He even tried the rear doors, but they were almost always locked. At his failure, he threw his hands over his eyes, and a loud snarl of irritation ripped from his throat.

Oliver stuck his tongue out at him before properly situating himself in the driver's seat. "Get some pants on in the meantime, dear!"

Allen performed a crude gesture as the engine started, and the baker slapped his hand to his chest, as if offended. However, he only laughed again as his housemate stormed back into the building. "Stupid idiot," Oliver said fondly. "You think that is something? Wait until I return home!"


	50. Chapter 49

Oliver had only gone out for a little over two hours. Nothing strange or loud happened as he deposited his grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He stood still, listening to the silence, and for a moment, he giggled from thrill of Allen's possible retaliation. "This is more worrisome than something crashing to the floor." Clearing his throat, he called, "Allen?"

With no reply, the baker hurried to the foyer, and summoned the other man again. "Allen, what are you..." he lost himself to another fit of snickers. Oliver sucked in a loud inhale to level himself, "What are you doing you stupid...ha-ha!"

The back door loudly clattered, and he gasped, snapping his poor search of better words to an end. He hurried by the counter, only to skitter to a halt as a small dark intruder shot pass his feet. Oliver stared after the bulky, black fury flapping its near useless wings, clucking in fright. It ran around the tables as if it lost its head, but thankfully, there was no blood on the floor, only a few dark feathers.

Then, Oliver finally let out a shout of, "Why is there a chicken in my bakery?!"

Allen dashed out of the back room, eyes wide, and his head whipping side to side. Surprisingly, he was fully dressed. "Where'd he go?!" Without a coherent reply besides the heavy breaths coming from Oliver's nose, he hurried to the rows of tables, and swooped to the floor to crawl after the animal. "Come here, you! No need to be shy! Yeah, that's right!"

Oliver balled his hands into fists, glaring steadily at the chicken that softly clucked in Allen's arms. He backed away as the other man approached him. "Come on, babe, he ain't gon' bite you."

"Why did you bring a chicken into my shop?!"

"He's cute!" Allen pinched the rooster's beak so his mouth opened. "Look at that! They say even the meat is black."

Oliver eased his shoulders. "Y-you brought it here to eat? Who is going to slaughter it?"

Allen clutched the animal to his chest, blanching in great horror. "Nobody is eatin' him!" he snorted, and leaned down to kiss the rooster's crown. "Don't you worry, nobody eatin' you." He picked up his head, and demanded, "How could you even ask me that?!"

"I do not believe you," Oliver lamely shook his head. "Why did you bring...a chicken here, of all things? I thought I told you not to misbehave when I was-"

"I wasn't misbehavin'! You said you were lookin' fer a pet o' some sort!"

"Like a cat!"

"He can be just as good as a cat! An' he won't shed! Well, shed fur, I mean." Allen hovered closer, enticing Oliver with a soft grin. "You don't gotta walk him like a dog, either."

"O-oh, all right, if we must." Oliver slowly reached to run his fingertips over the bird's smooth feathers. "He needs a name, first."

Allen flashed a bright smile, testing him by pressing his nose to the top of his head. "He already got one. His name is Eegs, like eggs, but two E's, 'stead o' two G's. That's what he was called when I got him. He's a rescue!"

"Really?" Oliver kept his eyes trained on the chicken. "Where in the world would you rescue a chicken from?"

"Off the street?"

"There was a random chicken roaming the streets of an urban town? That is a tad hard to believe." He lifted his head, causing their noses to nearly brush one another, but the proximity was anything but intimate. "So, tell the truth. Where did you get it?"

An audible gulp ran down the other man's throat as his warm demeanor dropped to a look of horror. "You know, from the streets, like me. Chickens...always fightin', cause they're fierce lil' fellas."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "Allen."

His partner took a step back, wounding his arms tighter around the animal. "You're only gonna get mad."

"I am going to be more angry if you keep avoiding the truth!"

"Shit, Ollie," Allen skirted backwards around the counter to shield Eegs from the baker. "H-he was in this fightin' rink. I couldn't just stand by an' let some asshole claw him to bits! It was an unfair fight! That other rooster had metal claws implanted on him!"

Oliver stormed around the counter, and the other man backed away in an effort to preserve his and his pet's life. "You snuck off to a cock-fighting ring?! Do you know how dangerous that is?! What if the other players come after you for stealing one of their chickens?!"

Allen glanced from him to the windows quickly approaching his back. "Babe! You just said you'd get angrier if I didn't tell you! I told you the truth!"

"You could have been seriously injured for interfering! Did you even think about what could happen?!" Allen's back bumped into the glass, and he could only hold Eegs protectively as Oliver spat, "What would happen if you were hurt, or I found out that you ran off to some...fighting match, and gotten yourself killed?!"

"But I didn't, and neither did Eegs-"

"I don't give a damn about the stupid chicken!" Oliver blurted. Both of them widened their eyes at his outburst. He choked out against the sob building from stress, "Do you not understand? How distraught I would be if something happened to you? You act like you want to get hurt." Without allowing Allen to completely answer, "You act as if you think I enjoy your pain!"

"I don't, baby!"

"Then stop acting like it!"

The chicken began to struggle from the commotion. His claws reached to tear Allen's forearms, so his captor swooped down to release him, and sprung to his feet. "You mean all o' that?"

Through his own stream of sniffling and shaky breathing, Oliver hollered, "What do you think?!"

Eegs nipped at his shoelaces before scurrying away. However, the man kept his fierce, watery scowl on the pleading sight before him. "J-jeez, I really don't like to make you mad. I don't do it on purpose!"

"Oh, you don't?" Oliver let out weak chuckles, as that was what he knew to do in that kind of tense situation. Allen seemed concerned about the sudden laughter. "I suppose you do it on accident, then? Or you are being controlled by some poppet?"

"You know what I mean!"

"No, I really do not, Allen," Oliver admitted. He blinked in surprise as a faint ringing rose from the floor.

Allen heard it, too, and it spooked him more than any of Oliver's shouting. "Did you hear that?"

Nikolai's signal was small and short, but with enough distraction, Allen's mind could be far from it. Oliver drew a steadying breath, and wiped his eyes. "I do not know what you mean, but I know one thing. Whether it is that drives you to such stupidity, it must be ruined. Kicking and screaming did not work, but I have other ideas."

"Y-yeah?" A foolish smile rose Allen's cheeks. "What'chu plannin'? You gon' put me under house arrest, if it makes you feel better?"

"Hm, good idea," Oliver granted, "but no." Smearing the last of dampness from his cheeks, he put on a generic smile for the poker face Nikolai required of him to do. "You need a lesson."

"Huh?" Allen lightly grunted when the baker grabbed his shirt sleeve to tow him toward the counter. "H-hey, no, seriously, lesson? Whadda you gon' do? Spank me?"

"Do not sound so excited," Oliver said, pulling into the kitchen. "I am not aiming for something that is enjoyed on both parts. How will you learn, otherwise?"

"Uh, uh, okay. Hey, I never saw what was behind this door." When the basement door unlatched, and exposed a cave of darkness, Allen said, "Oh. I thought it was a closet o' some sort."

"Like I do not have plenty of those. Go down the stairs."

"What? Like fuck I am! That shit is creepy!"

Oliver blinked innocently at his partner. "I thought you wanted me to no longer be angry with you, Allen."

"I don't!"

"Then step down."

Allen glanced to the shadowed stairs, and back to the baker. "Fine, I'll do it. You don't got scary monsters down there, do you?"

"Would you go down if I did?"

"S-sure, babe. I was just askin' so I know what to expect."

Oliver swallowed a flattered giggle as the other man gripped the dark railing. He was supposed to be mad at him, not tittering like a love-struck idiot. As soon as Allen was halfway into the basement, he pulled the door shut behind the both of them. Allen drew a sharp breath, and the banister squeaked under his grip. "Babe?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What-" Allen sputtered when Oliver called from the bottom of the steps. "You were just-"

"Are you going to join me? Oh, what I am saying? Of course you are. _Now._ " Oliver pressed a hand to his mouth to quell more laughter. He sounded so delightfully demanding! He hoped Nikolai would be proud.

"C-can we get some lights on first?"

"Yes, the light switch is on the right of the last step."

"At the bottom of the steps?! Who would...Why can't you turn it on?"

"You are closer."

"Fuck!" Allen spat from the voice blowing against his neck. "I get you're mad at me, but do you really have to creep me out?!"

"How rude," Oliver sneered. "You seem to be forgetting that you brought this on yourself. You want to fix it, do you not?"

"Fine! I'll turn on the damn light, okay?" Allen hesitated, most likely to stare down the invisible steps, before pressing against the wall to guide him the rest of the way. Oliver inhaled deeply, and summoned himself again. He blinked rapidly as the basement light's fluttered to life, and gazed at the long, black bag resting on top of the metal table before him. Allen was stiff against the wall, gawking with much more intensity. His mouth twitched upwards as he lightly scoffed. "Uh, babe?"

Oliver pinched the ribbon around his own neck, and tipped his head to the side. "Yes, dear?"

"What the fuck is that?"

"Come over here, and find out."

"That's a dead body!"

"It could be."

"Oliver!"

Oliver shivered as goose bumps pimpled beneath his clothes. "Stop making assumptions, and get over here."

"You scared me enough now, all right? I admit, I'm almost peein' my pants over here!"

"I guess we will stay here until then..."

Allen snorted, and disturbed smile tilted his mouth. "You...you're crazy, babe!"

"You are the one that makes me crazy, Allen. If you behave yourself a little more, then we would not have to do this."

"I'd said I'll be a good boy," the other man seethed, not sounding promising.

"You say you will, but there is nothing wrong about making sure of one's self. Open the bag."

Allen stuck to his glare.

"The wall will not protect you forever."

"I could go upstairs."

"Are you threatening me?"

He seemed to actually consider Oliver's half-demand, half-question. "Nah, baby. I seen freakier stuff than _that_. I ain't runnin' away."

"Really? Then I will ask you this; while you slowly but surely make your way over here, you like it when I bake you things, right?"

Allen finally let go of the wall, but lingered close to it before shuffling nearer to the middle of the room. An uneasy grin made its way on his face. "I like it when you go a lotta things, babe, so I ain't _tryin'_ to make you mad at me."

"I am going mad because you do not think things through." Oliver gave his head a little shake, realizing he was going astray from the subject before him. "Do you know why my treats are so delectable?"

"It's a baker's secret, right? That's what Bella told me once!"

"Did she now?" Allen finally stopped a pace or two from the table, gawking at the suspicious bag. It was not obvious if it was a body in there, or not. It could be a lot of other things, based on its non-bodily shape. Oliver silently granted a job well done. "I think you would do well to know what the secret ingredient is..."

"You think that?" Allen dryly chuckled, but the noises died to a lame lament, "What is it?"

"Open the bag, and find out."

"Oh, fuck."

"And watch your tongue."

Allen curled his nose, and reached out with trembling fingers to the dull zipper attached to the base of the dark sack. "I swear if it's...ugh! Fuck!" He shook his head, and did a double take as a pale head of hair peeked out of the opening. He stumbled back on stiff legs, and tumbled onto his rear end. "Ow! What the fuck! Why is there a dead person in there?!"

"What else would be in a body bag, darling?" Oliver emerged from the other side of the table, grinning as the supposed dead man's eyes opened to glance at him with an equally wicked smile. "Sweets, perhaps? Toys? Unicorns?"

"You said not to assume!"

"I did, but sometimes assumptions wind up being correct."

"Stay over there!" Allen snarled as he scooted backwards with his palms and heels.

Oliver suddenly stopped, and put a hand to his chest. "I thought you would be happy that I am sharing this with you. You wanted, and needed this."

"H-happy?! You want me to be happy that I know that I've been fuckin' eatin' people for how long?!"

"Since day one? You should be happy that I am telling you this, so you know to straighten up your act. You do not want to be the next one on the table, do you?"

"Y-you've been feedin' me...Anabella, too?" Allen blanched, grasping his stomach. "Sweet ol' Bella. That's...that's fuckin' sick."

Oliver wondered how his cover was not blown yet by his own stupid giggles. Encouraged by Allen's sneakers scraping on the ground, he crept closer. "What is so sick about it, love? Why let precious bodies rot in wooden caskets when they can be dined upon and enjoyed? They are delicious, after all, right?"

"W-what? Ollie, why? You're...no,...that's...ugh, why you, Ollie?"

"Allen, do not act all afraid so suddenly now." Oliver slowly lowered himself to the floor, and pressed his palms ahead of himself to crawl toward his partner who stared with a great horror on his once loving face. He hesitated as the other shot backwards, away from him. Was it too far, even for a joke? He took a nervous laugh; at that moment, it was too late. "I am sure if you continued eating the things I make for you, you would not taste any difference now that you know my secret."

The other man's shoulder blades pressed against the wall, causing him to let out weak, wheezy laughter. "Some secret, Ollie."

Still, Oliver crept closer, and slid over Allen's legs. "Is that not what lovers do, though? We know each other's secrets..." He drew a finger up the fabric of the other's plain shirt, pausing under his chin, and smiled how his jaw trembled. Only the baker knew that terror was for naught. His housemate's reaction should be worth the pain his tongue was going through as he bit it to prevent bursting into laughter, ultimately ruining the act. "We know _everything_ about one another..." He leaned forward, their cheeks grazing as he whispered pass his ear, "We love one another?"

Allen let out a few nervous grunts against his chest. "Are you gon' eat me?"

Oliver really had to bite down on his lower lip that time, to ward of any possible snickers from escaping his throat. "You should be a good boy, so I do not have to! I would be very, very, very sad if I were driven to such measures!"

"O-oh," Allen's breath was coming rather heavy. The baker leaned back to look at his face worryingly, but his partner was avoiding his eyes. "Th-the cops, though. They'll bust you fer this, babe-"

"I know what I am doing," Oliver assured him by giving his chest a generous rub, but that course of action only made the legs beneath him squirm even more. "These people are the ones that the police will not want to look for. Murderers, rapists, thieves...town nuisances that make a name of themselves...do not tangle yourself with those kind."

"So, you ain't popping random...possibly innocent people?"

"I happen to have morals, too, Allen," the baker batted his eyes as he fiddled with the other man's shirt collar. Another plus to this (fake?) madness was that he could touch his partner, without the gloating about him being supposedly angry! "What do you say, love? Are you going to stay and _try_ to be a good boy?"

"S-stay? You think I'm gon' leave?"

Oliver's contented smile fell. "Are you?"

"Hm," Allen moistened his lips in a nervous gesture as his legs shifted awkwardly beneath the baker. Oliver had to hold back a happy chitter from the contact. "Babe, it's like before, where else am I gon' go to? I met some freaky people that did freaky things before..." his housemate trailed off, as check out the body over his while speaking coherently. "Shit, I think I might be a lil' crazy, too."

"You think so?!" Oliver clasped his cheeks between his palms. "Do you know how happy it makes me to hear you say that?!" He did not wait for a response, allowing himself to succumb to excitement, and speckle anywhere he could on Allen's face with kisses. The other man did not even question it; he eagerly sucked up the attention with equal giggles and bites.

Suddenly, Allen's legs jumped with a muffled yelp of fright. Oliver ripped away from him, panicking, "What? Are my hands too cold?"

"I swore that fuckin' thing moved!"

"What thing?"

Allen jabbed a finger toward the table. "That thing!"

Oliver looked over his shoulder. "Allen, it's a dead body. It can't move." His housemate only let out a scared noise from the back of his throat without tearing his eyes from the bag. "Will it make you feel better to check to see how warm it is?"

"I really don't wanna go near that thing."

"He...it will not bite. It is dead." Oliver tugged on Allen's shirt as he scooted away. "Come on, darling."

"What if it's a zombie?!"

"Zombies are not real," he lied. "Besides, if that was a zombie, would you bash its brains in, when it would come after me?"

"Sure, crazy..." Allen grunted as he stood on stiff legs. "W-what'd'ya gon' do wit' it, anyway, when you're...you know...done?"

Oliver was much quicker and willing to approach the table, walking around it as if to survey the half exposed body. "Someone is supposed to come pick it up, but he did not do it yet, leaving me with the thing to rot. Is that horrible? Look at the size of this lug! How in the world am I supposed to get it anywhere?!"

"H-how'd the body get here in the first place?"

"Remember what I said about Luciano's gang working for me?"

"Oh."

"Come on!" Oliver coaxed as he bounced on his toes. "Are you going to help me with this thing or not?"

"You want me to help you hide a body?!"

"Yes, please!"

"Shit!" Allen groaned, as if it were _such_ a chore. "It's one thing to...ugh, never mind," he intelligently dropped whatever he was going to ramble about from Oliver's furious pout. "You're lucky you're cute!"

"Excuse you! I am very manly!"

"Sure thing. Let's...uh...get this thing out of here 'fore it starts stinkin'." Allen stared at the pale face peeking out of the opening. The smell of chemicals wafted from the still body, then familiar to Oliver, but proved to be vaguely sickening to his partner. "There's a large dumping ground a lil' ways from here. If we bury him in enough junk...babe, are you really sure about this?"

"Allen, it has been done before. Plenty of times. As I said, nobody would want to look for these kinds of people."

"Yeah, but what kind o' guy was this one?" Allen slowly inclined to stare at the opaque goggles that rested on the body's forehead. "He kinda looks like..." He furrowed his eyebrows, and tugged on the zipper to expose the rubbery garments of a surgeon. "He looks like some kind o' doctor."

"Oh well," Oliver shrugged, beaming at the ceiling. "He is dead, now."

"Okay, okay. Let's get this done an' over wit'." Allen reached to grab the dull scarf around the 'dead' man's shoulders, and shift it over on both sides of him. One of the large hands flew up and wrapped around Allen's wrist.

Nikolai's eyes fluttered open to a sweet grin, and a sharp intake of air from the invader. "Please, no touching of the scarf. It is very important to me."

The basement was filled with a high shriek. Allen ripped away from the operator, and flew back onto his butt again. "Holy shit!" He arched his back from the force of his fall, and gasped in a lesser tone, "Holy shit."

Oliver could finally let up all that built laughter as Nikolai rose to sit, mimicking a zombie lifting itself from its grave. He added his own breathy chuckles, and unzipped the rest of the bag to free himself. Both left the table to stand beside Allen, looking down at him with matching grins. The surgeon chirped, "How is the weather down there?"

Allen choked out, "Fuck you."

Oliver knelt down, and tapped his partner's nose. "Did you forget about my medical run we went on that one time? That is what happens to the organs. Nikolai dissects the bodies, and is kind enough to get rid of them, so neither of us have to!"

"What is real anymore?"

"They are still criminals, dear, but I certainly do not put anything pertaining with this business into my baking! Blood and guts would ruin the batter and cook times!"

"You're crazy!"

Nikolai hummed, "Who is not, really?"

Oliver shamed, "That is very hypocritical of you, Allen. You are still here. Crazies stick together, darling."

Allen's tanned skin looked discolored, like a ghost sucked his soul out of his pores. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

"I already told you! You were being a bad boy! How would I get it through your thick skull, otherwise!" He bent down to pat Allen's cheek, cooing, "You are an idiot, after all."

The only thing Allen could manage to say in the situation was, "Well, shit. Are you still mad at me, despite all o' this?!"

Oliver waggled his head side to side, mocking deep thought. "I suppose I traumatized you enough for today. No, you are forgiven."

"Phew, okay. Okay, yeah." Allen was still trying to get his heart rate down. "But next time, we're gonna sit down an' talk 'bout our problems like mature adults, right? Right, Ollie?"

Nikolai let out a little giggle, and Oliver's face began to flare up from the embarrassment of his actions crashing down on his head. "Yes, we will talk."

* * *

 _A.N.- Kudos to you if you know where the chicken originated from. If not, Eegs (yes, with two E's) is NOT my character. Credit goes to KyoKoon on YouTube for making such a marvelous beast._


	51. Chapter 50

"...and nobody lives to tell the tale."

The gathered partygoers stared at Luciano holding up his hands as if to be scary. Unfortunately, the broad daylight did not often open opportunities for frightening atmospheres, especially inside pastel decorated bakeries.

"I don't get it," Allen said. "How can you know 'bout it if nobody lives for the story to carry on?" The chicken cradled in his arms softly clucked, as if in agreement.

Luciano slapped his palms on the table. "I'm trying to tell a spooky story here!"

"Yeah," Lutz muttered, "the keyword is trying."

"Shut up!"

Kuro quietly laughed to himself.

Oliver emerged from the kitchen with a fairy on his head, and a fresh batch of cupcakes in his hands. "How about everybody pipes down?" He warned with a sweet smile. Allen was squirming in his seat before the baker set the tray on the table.

Luciano stared at the piles of white icing. "Oliver, we brought snacks so you did not have to make all this stuff!"

"It is only one batch. Besides," Oliver ran a hand through Allen's hair as he shoved an entire treat in his mouth, "I need to accommodate this one's appetite."

Everyone blankly stared at said man as he said something, but grunts, and dark crumbs flew onto the table instead of words. Kuro lowly scoffed in disgust, moving his drink glass out of the way of the invading particles. "That is sickening!" The chicken on his lap ruffled itself, and clumsily jumped onto the floor to get away from all the jerking and thrashing.

"Breathe, darling," Oliver coaxed his partner by rubbing small circles against his shoulder blades. He watched Eegs flee into the kitchen, thankfully, out of sight.

Allen managed to choke out, "Where's Matt? He comin'?"

"Chicken!" Lila loudly called, and dove off of Oliver's head, after the feathery animal.

"Give them time," Oliver said, raising his free hand to swish at the new absence. "Not all the guests are here."

Luciano looked around with an ever lost face. "Who else is coming? Did you make new friends?"

Oliver watched Kuro snatch the same cupcake Allen was reaching for, and narrowed his dark eyes in warning of keeping quiet. "He is...not exactly a friend."

It was time for Lutz to look terrified. "You don't mean you're actually allowing Nikolai to come here?!"

Allen fell into another coughing fit, reliving horrors of the previous night. "Fuck! No, not that guy!"

Luciano gawked at the baker fussing about his partner turning purple. "Oliver, why?"

"I-I felt bad for him!" Oliver gave Allen's back a hard whack, causing more slobbery crumbs to fling out of his mouth. Kuro closed his eyes, ready to pass on. "He wanted to come to a party. For goodness sake, learn to chew before you swallow!"

"He's a creeper!"

Allen took an exaggerated gasp of air as he pressed his forehead to the table top. Oliver scoffed, going after his own chair, "We mostly see him up to his elbows in blood."

Luciano shrugged. "Still a creeper."

The other brunet picked up his head, cheeks still red from his brush with death. "Once a creeper, always a creeper!"

"Do not say any of those things when he comes around!"

Lutz snickered behind his hand, and elbowed Kuro, who paid him no heed. "He might take a scalpel to your throat if you do."

"Eugh!" Allen clamped his hands around his neck.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "I asked him to dress accordingly, so none of those things will be brought into my shop."

Luciano repeated, "Still a creeper."

The fresh batch of cupcakes was more than half gone when Matt and Siegmund arrived. "Are those cupcakes?" The blond asked before greeting anybody. He lunged forward, and dug two out of their holes, so he and his company would get a chance to eat.

Allen said, "I was gon' say, 'Hey, Matt,' but I guess the cupcakes beat me to it."

His brother sat next to him, but ignored the comment as Siegmund took the adjacent chair. "Crazy party."

Oliver claimed with a happy swish of his hand, "It has not even started yet!"

Matt gave him a weird look, but shook his head. "Isn't everyone here?"

A figure moved along the windows, answering his question when the front door pulled open. "Hello, _comrades!_ " At least Nikolai was not wearing his usual surgeon scrubs.

Those who knew him grumbled, and turned from his pale red gaze. Being the host, Oliver had to welcome him. He rose from his seat, and hurried to the front of the bakery. "Hello, dear, what are these bags in your hands?"

With a smile that could mean anything when it came to him, Nikolai approached the adjacent table from the partygoers, and plopped his luggage on the sprinkled surface. He dove his arms into the two bags, and began rummaging through them.

Matt leaned over to his brother, whispering, "Who is this guy?" Siegmund shot him a frightened look, wondering the same thing.

Allen appeared to be equally scared. "You don't wanna know."

"I asked."

"Shut up, Matt."

Nikolai pulled out a shiny, cone shaped hat. "Party favors!" He cheered, and roughly set it on Oliver's head.

"Ah!" The baker grabbed at the smooth plastic to adjust it. "H-How lovely..."

Luciano accused, "Isn't that a birthday hat?"

"No, no," Nikolai batted the poof ball on top of the head wear. "It is a party hat. For parties."

Giving the bag a suspicious scowl, the Italian demanded, "What's in there?"

"Candy!" Nikolai grabbed one bag and dumped it all over the table. Oliver frowned at the stray pieces bouncing to the floor.

Allen's eyes bulged. "All o' that's candy?!"

"You tell me."

"Holy shit!" He was obviously conflicted between gorging himself like a piñata, or avoiding anything the operator had to offer.

Luciano hissed, "Still a creeper."

Oliver could not tell if Nikolai heard the comment as he grabbed a large handful of the sweets before taking a seat beside Kuro. The small knuckle that was resting on the table whitened as the beast settled with a quiet chuckle. His face grew slightly green when offered a piece of chocolate, and managed a weak shake of the head.

The baker clapped several times to summon everyone's attention, but his shiny hat had done most of the head turning. "Thank you for all coming today, but I admit, I did not intend for this gathering to be some random fest...at least, not for the most part."

Nikolai dropped his candy on the table to throw his hands over his eyes. "Then why did I even buy your hat?!"

"I said, for the most part! Bear with me on this. I may sound a little mad, but we all know how dreadful the world can be, right?" Most of Oliver's guests stared with traumatized gazes. The hat must have gotten to them. Oliver rubbed his hands in a nervous motion. "It is not awful all the time! That is why I would like to bring out the good stuff from the dark that it has been in for so long!"

Lutz echoed, "Good stuff?"

Luciano put in, "Like puppies?"

Oliver nodded. "Like literature, music, and art. There are no smart reasons for creative thinking to be so suppressed. Look how cold and reclusive the world is because of it."

Matt glanced around the gathered partygoers with a constipated expression. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Get rid of the attitude to start!" Oliver cheerfully offered. "I do not believe there will be a global movement to improve society just yet. I was thinking we could start somewhere much smaller, somewhere outside these doors."

Lutz gave his head a shake of disbelief. "You want us to go around, and tell people to cheer up? You really think that is going to make them change for the better?"

"I know it sounds daft right now, and I know it will be dreadfully embarrassing at first. All I am asking is to start a movement in the right direction. All those...oh, what are they called? 'Closet Smilers?' Odd term if you ask me, but all those closet smilers and people hiding their desires and talents will catch onto what we would be doing, then it will take off from there!"

Matt snorted. "That's insane."

Allen shot his brother a sour pucker. "Why you lookin' at me fer?"

Luciano fidgeted in his seat, casting a nervous glance around the room. "It's like when the thing with...my friend blew over. Those things you were saying to me, you want it to be like where he is?"

"Similary. I am not trying to create a legion of squeamish pansies, but they have _some_ things right."

Nikolai giggled, "I have no idea what anyone is talking about."

Oliver insisted, "There is no harm in trying!"

Lutz grumbled, "Sometimes, there is."

The baker slapped his hands on the table. "Not this time! Are you all going to sit there, and drown in society's darkness, or are you going to do something about it while there is a chance?"

Allen shot to his feet, and obnoxiously clapped. "Yeah! Woo! Let's go, Matt! What'd'ya think?"

"I think that's one of the more stupid ideas you had, or went along with."

Lutz chuckled at how Allen's shoulders slouched from his brother's dejection. "I think you're trying to get laid."

"Yeah?! I think that's more than you'll ever do!"

The blond narrowed his eyes, and slowly rose out of his chair. "Just what are you implying?"

Just as Allen opened his mouth, Oliver smacked the table again repeatedly. "I appreciate the gesture, darling, but you need to sit before this whole thing topples over."

Nikolai's mouth pulled down as the duo grumbled, scorned one another with glares, and settled. "A fight would have been interesting..."

"Not now!" Oliver spat. "Will you think about something serious like this for once, instead of jumping to insult a good idea?"

Siegmund leaned against Matt's arm, petting it with fondness. The rugged blond acknowledged the gesture with a curt nod, and muttered, "I suppose. What do we have to do?"

Oliver let out a snooty hum. "I have plenty of ideas, actually!"

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"I have too many ideas," he hissed to Lila when he retired to bed that night. "I think I overwhelmed them today."

The fairy giggled lightheartedly at his not-so-awful turmoil. "There is plenty of enough time to get yourself sorted out by the next meeting, and by then, maybe your friends will have their own ideas, too!"

"I am not sure they are my friends..."

"Yet."

"Yes, yet. Do you think I should talk to Arthur about this? I mean, I am taking some ideas from his place. Maybe he will have some good input as well."

"I can get him!" Lila offered.

"Would you?"

Allen emerged from the hall. "Would I what, babe?"

Oliver pulled the covers up to his chin to hide his embarrassed flush when his housemate flicked on the lights. "I did not say anything."

"Sure thing," the other man tugged the blanket from Oliver's clutch enough to plant his lips on his partner's cheek.

"Where's that chicken of yours?"

"In his cage like you told me to do."

Oliver and the fairy giggled when Allen sauntered to the foot of the bed to peel off his shirt. Lila poked the baker's nose to retract his attention. "I'm going to fetch Arthur now. Make sure you don't keep us waiting!"

"With what?" He seethed under his breath, only to quiet when the bed dramatically flopped under Allen's weight. The room filled with soft hooting noises as he scrambled across the mattress to wedge underneath the cover, and wrap around Oliver. "I do not even know why I try to sleep on one side of the bed."

"We got sides o' the bed we're supposed to stay on?"

"Y-you do not have to..."

"Good!" Allen buried his face in the crook of Oliver's neck, and before long, his breathing deepened to light snores. Oliver blinked against the darkness in surprise; usually he was the one that _tried_ to fall asleep first, but he did not complain.

"You want _my_ help?!" Arthur exclaimed when his look alike joined him in the flower fields. The blond hesitated, appearing to be taken back by putting a hand to his chest. "Well, I-"

"Don't gloat!" Lila warned.

"I am not! I was going to say that I am _humbled_ that you decided to better your world using my ideas!"

"Your world's ideas."

Arthur scowled at the fairy. "Do you not have flowers to bloom?"

Lila harrumphed, and buzzed further into the colorful patch. Oliver gently shook his head, fondly smiling. "That is good to hear. However, I intend to encourage the openness of art and literature. Everything else would be dramatically changed, perhaps for the worse, and I am certain nobody would want that."

"Dramatically how? You could make homicide a little more frowned upon-"

"Like that. Arthur, to be frank, that would be a foolish idea. One, nobody would bother listening to that nonsense, and two," Oliver continued despite Arthur opening his mouth and incoherently stammering, "killing is a good thing. If done so recklessly, the police will take measures to stop it. However, in moderation, it makes people behave themselves, and get rid of all those awful, extraneous fellows."

"Says you!"

"Says a whole other universe!" Oliver held up a hand before his look alike could get too frazzled. "Both of our worlds have wrongs and rights. I am just trying to bring the wrong of the suppressed arts into light. Technically, the Dark Ages never ended, despite whatever flimsy religion prevailing at the time eventually evaporating. With conditional homicide of my world, and the artistic practices of yours, who knows? Maybe humanity can reach a never seen before utopia."

Arthur granted, "You sound like you have been thinking about this for a long while!"

"Oh, that is an understatement!"

"Hm. It is your decision in the end. If you are willing to go those distances, then by all means, go for it."

"Yeah!" Lila clapped from a distant flower. "Go, Ollie!"

Oliver giggled from the praise. "Don't be surprised if all the spirits start flocking to my world, then!"

Arthur tossed his hands at his look alike in a feign gesture of disbelief. "Hah, if only!"

"You say that now!"

"I will say it later, too!"

"Go ahead!" Oliver casually baited.

"I will!" Arthur promised.

Lila hollered to end their antics, "The spirits are flocking around in the Realm of _Spirits,_ and will keep doing so, thank both of you very much!"


	52. Chapter 51

"Come one, come all! There are plenty of delicious treats for you to enjoy on this fine, summery day!"

"Damn, Ollie, I can hear you down the block!"

Oliver whipped his head in the newcomer's direction, grinning despite that it was not a customer. "That is how you attract attention, dear!"

Allen drew up to the stand the baker had set up, gazing at the many rows of various cookies and cupcakes available. His eyes trailed to his housemate, who fidgeted with the ribbon around his neck and smiled without meeting his gaze. "Yeah, you're attractin' attention, all right."

As expected, he reached for one of the brightly colored treats without taking his stare from Oliver, but the baker expertly slapped the offending hand away. "Those are for the customers. Unless you plan on paying, paws off!"

"Aw, come on!" Undeterred, Allen crept around the stand to toss his arms around Oliver. "You know I got an eye fer sweet things."

"Dork!" Oliver lightly spat, and turned his face away so his company would not see how stupidly he was grinning. "It's very nice and warm..."

"Who me?"

Yes, although Oliver was talking about something else. "I am talking about the weather."

"Uh huh, sure." A woman pushing a stroller passed the stand, and glanced in their direction. Oliver dropped his gaze to the grass when Allen sprouted a bright smile at her puckered expression.

Oliver started to pull away. "Hey, stop-"

Strong arms tugged him back against his chest. "Hey, hey."

"Allen! Quit it, you will drive potential customers away!"

"Quit actin' like you don't like it."

"I am not! I am acting as if you are going to ruin business, because you are!"

Allen gave Oliver's arms a wholehearted rub, still keeping his hold. "A lil' somethin' aint gon' hurt anybody!"

Oliver held up one finger, and turned his head to peck his partner's lips, just once. He blinked in surprise how the arms around him relinquished their clutch, replaced by a broad palm rubbing his back. "Oh? I am shocked that you did not die for more."

"Do y'want me to?"

"N-not now. How are the others doing?"

"Uh, Luciano's caricature thing at the bookstore's goin' fine. It's usually the kiddos that like that stuff. Wolfgang asked fer a drawin' o' himself, an' wound up bawlin' like a baby."

"Luciano can be very blunt given the right circumstances," Oliver granted. "The rest of them?"

"Huh? Oh, Lutz an' his bro are taggin' notes to people's cars, tellin' 'em sappy shit like 'Smile!' and 'Don't be 'fraid to tell the world how y'really feel!'"

Oliver snickered from the singsong voice Allen used to mock the brothers. "That was Lutz's idea, you know? It is nice to hear that his brother went along with it. Did Kuro and Matt complete their wall murals yet?"

"Yeah!" Allen lowered his hand to drape an arm around the baker's waist, but jerked back, as if shunning instinct. "They're...uh, comin' along nicely." He opted to perch his palms on his own waist in a subtle heroic pose. "I'm kinda likin' this, babe! If we keep this up, the town will be all pretty, even if the people are still salty."

"We are not going to be able to get the sticks out of everyone's rears, but it is a start." Oliver glanced around the grassy lot, but most of the passersby kept their eyes on their cellphones, or the sidewalks. An stray thought popped in his head, of his mother being happy with what he was beginning. "I have been thinking," he started much more quietly.

"Hm?" Allen leaned closer to hear. "I've been thinkin', too!"

"Really?" Oliver asked, impressed. "About what?"

A wicked grin cracked along Allen's face as he smeared Oliver's hair back, exposing his forehead. "I've been thinkin' 'bout those eyebrows!"

Oliver scoffed, and tried pulling away, but Allen's other hand clasped his upper arm. "I am being serious!"

"So am I," Allen crowed, still holding the baker's hair back so he could kiss the supposed monstrosities. "It won't be long 'til birds start tryin' to make nests out of 'em!"

Another vicious thrash only wound up causing Oliver to hurt his shoulder. "You!"

"Me?"

Oliver clamped a palm above his eyes.

"Aw, babe! I ain't tryin' to be mean!" Allen resumed to rub his back in attempts to sooth the baker. "Didn't you say you were thinkin' o' somethin'?"

"Are you going to stop being a goofball and listen?"

Allen shrugged. "Sure."

Oliver glanced in his direction, doubtful, but eased with a soft roll of his shoulders. "I was thinking of seeing my mother."

"Wow! Ain't your mom in jail?"

"Ever since I was fourteen years old. The more I think about it, the more I _have_ to see her again. I want to know if she is all right."

"What if she ain' all right, Ollie?"

Oliver insisted, "I have to see her. I am eighteen now, so the prison should let me visit her."

"Yeah, you don't want lil' kiddos runnin' 'round a bunch of bad fellas." Allen dropped his distant expression of distaste from the sky. "When you plan on goin'?"

"Oh, I do not know," the baker grimaced at his hands fidgeting with one another. "Perhaps in the middle of the week, so all the weekend goers are not everywhere."

"Can I tag along?"

"You want to come with me?"

Allen's grin broadened. "Yeah! I always wanted to meet your mom!"

"I...I do not know if you should be so excited about that. What if she is not around anymore?"

"Where else would she be?"

Oliver turned his head to give the other man a blank stare.

Allen blinked in wonder. "Huh? Oh, okay." He shook his head. "Well, that's somethin' we gotta find out."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The group collected at the bakery, safe from the draining summer sun with cool drinks and treats. Nikolai had separated since the first gathering, as he claimed that he made the world a better place by ridding of those who did not. When everyone was seated by the table open to the front windows, Oliver rose out of his seat, and cleared his throat to gain attention.

"I would like to thank everyone for their efforts again today. Is everyone all right? None of the crazies tried clawing your eyes out?"

Matt spoke up, if it was considered speaking up, "There was a crowd around Kuro and I when we were finishing our last mural. They all just stood there and stared."

Kuro let out a low rumble of laughter from the back of his throat. "I am afraid we may have broken them."

Oliver offered, "Perhaps they were taken back from such a nice job you two have done."

Matt and Kuro glanced at one another before dropping their eyes to the table. Undaunted, Oliver turned to Lutz and Siegmund. "The tickets?"

"Once people find out they are not fines, they are probably going to rip them up."

Siegmund's docile expression soured at his brother's lament.

The baker shrugged. "So what? They are pieces of paper with ink on them." Just as everyone gawked at him, he claimed, "It is the message that needed to be sent out. Once they read it, it will be with them forever."

Allen put in with an elbow to his brother, "Unless they forget 'bout it, like if they're old or somethin'."

"Be quiet, Allen." Oliver continued over his grunts and stammers. "Luciano, how did the caricature booth go?"

"I guess it went fine, given the location. If we went somewhere more busy, I am certain we could attract more interest."

With a nod, Oliver said, "We are starting out small, but I would say this is a success!" He almost wiggled from delight, but resorted to a simple smile instead. His mother would be so proud! He knew he was of himself. "Ahem, so next week, same time? That sound all right?"

Like children in a confusing math lecture, the others weakly bobbled their heads, muttering affirmative phrases. Allen reached up to fondly squeeze Oliver's hand, which coaxed the baker to settle in his seat with a satisfied huff. Even with the heat-beaten responses, it was all very good news. "Great! Next Saturday, here at the bakery. Snacks and drinks will be provided, so all of you should come."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

A prison's receptionist stared at Oliver with dead eyes when he and Allen stood before his desk several days after. "Kirkland? Sir, we have not had any Kirkland's within the past twenty four months."

Oliver gawked at the man, blinking stupidly at the news. "Two years?!"

"That is what I said." The secretary browsed his computer for another moment. "The only Kirkland we have in our records is a...um...Marionette? A Marionette Kirkland, but she was transferred out two years ago."

"Transported?" Oliver murmured, hovering closer to the wall of glass separating him from the secretary. "To another prison?"

The receptionist raised his eyebrows, glancing up and down at the baker. "No sir, to the local mental ward."

With the look he was given, Oliver belonged in one, too. "Oh, all right...Thank you." He doubted the secretary heard him, but he felt eyes on his back when he padded away from the front desk to where Allen was waiting by the doors.

"What's up?" He asked, and immediately slung his arms around Oliver once he crept close enough. "Your momma okay?"

"She is..." Oliver tried to crush the thickness crawling up his throat. "She is still around, but not here." He explained how Marionette was transferred a while back.

Allen widened his eyes, appearing shocked as Oliver felt. "They stuck your momma in a loony bin? What fer?"

"I must find out."

Once settled in the car, warmed by a few minutes in the late summer sun, Allen lightly whistled, and dropped his glasses in front of his eyes. "Wow. You don't think she went all...you know..." He spun his finger beside his head.

"My mum is a very strong woman. No matter how much she is beaten down, she will keep going for the sake of her family."

Allen held his hands up. "Okay, all right, babe. I was just wonderin'." When Oliver's shoulder's eased, he reached to hover a palm against the dashboard's vent. "Do these things even work anymore?"

"It is an old car. I would not be surprised if it was not in tip-top shape."

"Why don't you buy a new car? Like, one o' those fancy things wit' TV's in the back. Woo, I can hardly imagine! It sounds so cool. You can afford one o' those, right? I mean, you got the money from..." Allen's eyes flickered around the parking lot, as if someone were listening. "You know. Your stuff."

"As far as the government and everyone else is concerned, I run a simple bakery. It would be a tad odd for me to suddenly roll in with a Ferrari or some tenacious vehicle of that sort."

"Shit, what'chu gon' do wit' all that money then?"

Oliver shrugged. Anabella had bestowed him with more cash that she acquired over her many years than he believed he needed. "Financial security? Case of emergency? What if you fall down the stairs, and break your leg? There would be no need to take out loans or be in debt."

"Who says I'm gon' fall down the stairs anytime soon?"

"Not on purpose, but we are talking about you, Allen. Who knows what you will do next?"

"I'm behavin' myself!"

"Yes," Oliver mashed his eyebrows together for a more serious expression. "How long will that last?"

Allen grunted, and turned his head to stare out the window. His newfound silence was slightly startling, but the other man shrugged, and worried about pulling out of the car park. He filled the small vehicle with light hums and his fingers tapping against the steering wheel during short stops. However, once Oliver parked in the near empty parking lot in front of the supposed insane asylum (it only looked like an old office building), he glanced to his passenger, who was gawking with a puzzled look.

"What is wrong?"

"Uh...y-you're crazy."

Oliver wagged his head, miffed by the sudden insult. He cracked a sweet smile as he sourly asked, "Yes, it is great, isn't it?"

"No, well, I mean, sure, but...ugh," Allen rubbed his recently healed cheek. "You gotta be careful or else they'll lock you up in one o' their crazy rooms!"

"Thank you for the unneeded warning, dear. I suppose the same goes to you as well."

"What's..." Allen trailed off when Oliver leaned over to kiss the side of his face he was nursing. "What's that mean?"

The baker feigned a thoughtful noise against his jaw. "Hm, perhaps, just maybe that there is a teensy, tiny chance of you being almost, if not as mad as I am?" He continued without giving Allen a chance to fend for himself, "I do not know why you brought it up, since I am not letting you go anytime soon, and I do not see you _trying_ to get away." Cutting the engine, he left his partner to steam his brains as he hurried out of the vehicle.

"Son o' a bitch!" Allen's sputter was muffled from the enclosed car. He shoved open his side, and popped his head over the roof. "Slow down, crazy!"

"Hurry up, dork."

A frigid gust of air hit the duo as soon as they stepped into the interior, blank, to match the outside. Everything, the carpets, the walls, and even the worker's outfits, were all gray. The silly fluttering Oliver's heart performed dropped to a dead sink as he frowned at everything. His mother did not belong in a place like this!

Allen lightly tapped his behind. "Come on, babe. The desk lady is starin' at us."

The woman leaned over her desk to speak out of the circle cut from her office window, "Do you need something?"

The pair rushed to the glass, peeking at her through the hole. Oliver asked, "Are we able to visit one of the patients?"

Her face slightly crunched, as if asking the baker why he would wish to do that. "Uh...there is a lounge for the patients. You can talk to them there. What is the name? I need to see if they are in their room."

Oliver clasped his hands together so they would not pressed against the clean window. "Kirkland. Marionette Kirkland. I heard she was transferred from the prison a few blocks from here, around two years ago."

A thoughtful gaze took the receptionist's pale eyes. "All right. I will contact security to bring her out."

"Thank you," Oliver said, but the woman turned away, focused on tapping her telephone's buttons. He felt a sudden hand rub his back, lazily attempting to ease his tense shoulders.

"This is my first time meetin' your mom."

"What if she..."

"She what?"

Oliver shook his head. "We will see."

The receptionist hooked the phone back onto its receiver, and pointed to the direction of the lounge. "She is already in there."

"She is?!" The woman stared at Oliver at his outburst. "A-All right, thank you," he repeated, but did not linger by the desk. Allen shot ahead to push open the door, and wiggled his eyebrows to encourage a smile. Oliver held a hand over his mouth so he would not enter the supposed lounge containing a dozen of metal patients while grinning like an idiot. However, both of them straightened out once they stepped into the silent room.


	53. Chapter 52

The lounge was eerily quiet, fit to the type of building that held it, despite the several people that sat at the tables scattered around the room. They played card games in silence, or watched the other inhabitants play, but none of them glanced up to the newcomers as if they were hypnotized to their tasks. Oliver slowed to an uncertain stop to scan the room for a head of deep ginger hair.

Allen raised an arm to point to the rows of small tables lining the wall of windows. "What 'bout her?"

Oliver's eyes jumped to the lone woman steadily gazing out the window, and his legs shot forward on their own. He stared at her hands first, which were bony and skinny, but elegantly rested on one another on top of the table. Once he lifted his gaze to her face, she was marveling at him, too. The man opened his mouth, but did not find any words to tell his mother, even after he thought of many sweet words to say for so long.

His housemate brushed his side, and linked their hands together, which brought Oliver back to the moment. "H-Hi, Mum."

Marionette pushed herself to stand, only to hurry to her son and fall against him in a close, but weak embrace. Oliver curled his free arm around her slender frame while the other squeezed Allen's hand. He finally held all those years against himself, and the scent of his childhood made his mouth quiver with a threatening sob. She pulled away, able to stand on her own, and set a palm against Oliver's cheek.

Her voice was slightly aged to a shaky whisper of, "Oliver." She drifted her watery gaze to the other man, and tipped her head in question. Oliver could feel the child that was forced to mature too quickly stir inside his gut. He yearned to watch her vivid pigtails to sprout from the top of her head and ripple over her shoulder like they did when she expressed worry or interest in her son. With Marionette standing so close in front of him, it was too easy to want to relapse in the memories of her nails gently scraping across his scalp, easing him with one of her delicate tunes.

Allen gently nudged his side, once again bringing Oliver back to the present. The baker glanced up, doubling back at the unusual intensity in his partner's eyes. "Mum, this is Allen."

Marionette glanced down to their joined hands, then up to the other man's grin. "Howdy, ma'am."

She embraced him as well, for a quick second, only to pull away to hug her son again. Oliver blinked rapidly to condemn the wetness clotting his face. She turned to the table without further acknowledgement of his tears, and gestured for the pair to sit. She fell into her seat with a sharp sigh, and Allen snatched a chair from the adjacent set to scoot beside Oliver.

"I did not know you were not in prison anymore, Mum. I just found out today that you were transferred." Oliver stammered from the hand that sneakily grabbed his beneath the table, "I-I would have visited sooner if I knew that, but minors cannot enter those kinds of jails..."

His mother weakly smiled through his blabbering. He immediately quieted when she opened her mouth. "I am...very glad I am here now. The beds are much more comfortable."

It took a moment for her nearly inaudible words to process. Oliver cracked his own meek simper. "Are you happy here? I can get you a place to stay. I have the money for it now-"

"Oliver," Marionette's settled expression sharpened to a stern fix. "Why do you think I am in here, and not in jail anymore?"

Allen glanced between the two, obviously interested, but did not say anything. Oliver's shoulders rose. "I do not know, Mum. Why are you here, of all places? I would think you would be in a different prison, should you ever be moved."

"For the same reason you would be, dear, if you were not so careful. I talk to thin air. It did not go well with the others. Here, however," Marionette's gaze drifted to the other patients, "it is not as strange."

"I do not think it is strange. I am serious when I say I am more than willing to get you a nice place."

"I know you do," Marionette set a hand over her heart, "but so many others do not." She looked to Allen, who kept his eyes trained on her son. "Besides, I am here under law's orders. If I were not here, I would be in prison, and we both know why I cannot leave." Brightening to a straight position, she claimed, "I rather not, anyway. I have made so many friends!"

Allen lifted his eyebrows, and finally tore his face away to look around the lounge. The other patients were a little ways from them, and did not look or care for their reunion. Oliver understood, and earned a confused grumble from his partner as he laughed, and bobbled his head. "I am happy to hear that, Mum."

"Uh...uh...what'chu guys talkin' 'bout?"

Oliver gave Allen's hand a quick squeeze. "Magic voodoo stuff, darling." He glanced to his mother. "They are all over the place in here." There was even a fairy on the table behind them, minding his own business in his observing of the quiet atmosphere.

Marionette put a hand to her mouth, tittering at Allen casting a frightened sweep around the room before scooting closer to Oliver. "What do you do now, Oliver? Are you still at the youth hostel? Has it treated you right?"

"I run a bakery called _The Queen's Cupcakes_ now. It was previously owned by an old woman, Bella." Oliver's lips uplifted in a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "She taught me everything I could possibly know about baking."

"Is she...?"

"She passed away last winter. We have been living in her old flat above the shop."

"We?" Marionette's eyes flickered to Allen, who cracked a goofy grin as he slung an arm over her son's shoulders. Oliver looked down to his lap, but it was obvious he was smiling. "Oh, have you been together long?"

"Well, ma'am," Allen started before Oliver could open his mouth, "we've technically been under one roof ever since we met."

Marionette tipped her head, so Oliver clarified, "He arrived at the hostel several months after you...enrolled me."

"It was more closer to bein' dragged there, but, yeah, what he said."

Oliver was coaxed closer to the hand squeezing his shoulder, and retorted by sinking his nails into Allen's jeans. "The House, as we called it, was most likely one of the better places to be when you had nowhere else to go. Of course, there were problem children, but you have those everywhere."

"Why you lookin' at me fer?"

"Splendid," Marionette noted their short banter with a giggle. "Have you made any _other_ friends?"

"Plenty," Oliver swiped the back of his hand across his warmed cheek, still damp from his earlier tears. "I suppose you can say we are all trying to lighten the world and each other."

"Hey, yeah!" Allen put in, "Just a few days ago, Ollie ran this bake sale stand, an' he went an' took all o' the profits, an' plopped it on the children's hospital!"

Oliver sighed, not certain if he was irritated or flattered as his mother's jaw dropped. "It was an anonymous donation." He lowered his stare to Allen's leg, which bounced under his grip. "We have an artist in our group, and he drew caricatures of anybody who wanted them. There were not many, but it was a start."

"Ooh," Allen cleared his throat to cover his happy grunt when the baker leaned against his shoulder. "You remember those murals Matt an' Kuro had done?" He nodded to Marionette, "You would never believe it. Apparently, somebody or a couple o' fellas went 'round an' added all kinds o' stuff to 'em!"

"I plan on holding another meeting this weekend to do it all over again."

As Oliver hoped, his mother wiped at a new set of tears, and murmured, "Oliver, I am so happy to hear that."

"So am I."

Eventually, visiting hours had to pass so quickly, but the duo lingered until the last second, which was filled with heavy hugging. Oliver held his tears back with a tight lipped smile, but as soon as both car doors shut, he stared at the idle dashboard. The dim lights illuminated the stream that silently ran down his cheek. A quiet, shaky breath escaped his throat, breaking Allen's argument with the seatbelt for his head to snap toward him.

"Whoa, hey!" He hooked an arm behind Oliver's shoulders to pull him from his seat. "Why you cryin', babe?"

Oliver latched onto his partner's cotton shirt, eagerly shoving himself against his chest. "She is all right." He sniffled, using the white fabric to rub at his damp face. "My mum is all right."

Allen's other hand brushed his bangs apart so he could crush his lips to Oliver's forehead. "'Course she is," he mumbled down the side of the baker's face. "She's a greater lady than I'll ever be!"

Oliver was sniffles and smiles as he gave his partner's leg a fond grope. Words tumbled out of his mouth, "I love you."

The other man picked up his head. "Well, that was sudden."

The baker smacked his chest in feign anger. "Belt up, you!"

Allen bubbled with deep giggles. "You need me to drive?"

Oliver peeled himself away to scrub his face again. "Like you know how!"

"Sure thing, Ollie, but still..." Allen shot forward to plant a wet smooch to the side of his mouth. "You all right to get home?"

"Of course I am!" Oliver snapped the stick shift back as his passenger resituated his seatbelt. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself..."

"Shit, you had to say somethin' like that? Not even if we hold hands?"

"Fine." Oliver clamped on the offered palm, while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. Down the streets, he kept glancing at Allen during stops, noting the man gazing at him the entire time. "Spill it."

"Spill what?"

"You want to say something."

"I wanna say a lot o' things, baby, but apparently, I gotta wait 'til we get home."

"Good," Oliver clenched his hand. "I look forward to it."

"Nah, but seriously, I was thinking 'bout...uh, we don't gotta do it anytime soon, but we should go to the States and run 'round fer a lil' bit."

Another squeeze. "Have you _not_ caused enough trouble over there?"

Allen squeezed back. "There ain't no such thing! Come on, babe! You gotta try deep fried Oreos. You won't get 'em anywhere else like ours!"

"Deep fried...oh my. I can feel my cholesterol rising pass our heads right now."

"Yeah! It'll be great! Oh, an' there's the rodeos, an' the drive-ins, and we got to go hikin' in the woods some time..."

"Are there not plenty of trees around here to hike around?"

"Nah, you gotta hike 'round American trees. It's got a better feel to it."

Oliver cracked an evil smile. "Hm, Americans _do_ have a better feel to them..."

Allen did a double take, eyes wide with surprise. "Hey, don't make this hard for me. We ain't even at the bakery yet."

"Again! Watch your choice of words, darling. I am trying to drive here."

He wiggled from Oliver's grip to lock his arms across himself. Despite his silence, Allen grinned the rest of the way to their home.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

As usual, Oliver spent his unconscious hours in the Realm of Spirits, with a close friend and ally. Lila flitted around the bright patches of plants, often dropping flowers on Oliver as she could not shower him with anymore mischievous affections. "I saw my mother today."

The fairy popped out of a particularly thick cluster of grass with a loud gasp. "No way! Marionette is all right?!"

"She is as perfect as she can be these days. She is in a mental institution, but it has done her better things than these past years have done."

"Ollie! That's great news!" Lila buzzed to take her rightful spot on Oliver's head. "A lot of fae visit those kinds of places, because there are more people that can see and chat with us, and they won't get yelled at for talking to us."

"Yes, they will only get weird looks." Oliver gently wiggled a finger at his tiny friend, who retaliated with her own mighty swings. "I dare say it is worth it, though!"

"Why, thank you, Oliver. You sure know how to flatter." The fairy thrashed amongst his hair. "We are still short a company!"

"Are not!" A voice from behind spat. Heavy footsteps swished through the bicolored grass before Arthur flopped beside his look alike. Despite being in a nearly untouchable Realm, his face was flustered, and his unneeded breathing was ragged with angry huffs.

Lila asked, "Who dulled your sparkle?"

"Nothing it..." Arthur glanced to both their fatally curious faces. "Oh, all right. Kiku was a tad restless tonight. Not that he would admit it aloud, though."

"Kiku?" Oliver arched his brows. "Kuro's counterpart?"

"Yes, Kiku. He had a...headache."

Lila giggled as the baker shrugged, "To each their own! How is that large presentation you were telling me about going?"

"Oh, absolutely splendid. Since we are stationed in Italy for the week, there was this idea of combining our work and Feliciano's power point to a massive project. The tosser could pretend he cares about it."

"Are you sure that is Feliciano you are dealing with?"

A ripple of confusion passed on Arthur's face to a dull stare. "Oh. I am going to have to take that to Ludwig to deal with. If anyone is going to snap Luciano into place, it will be him."

Oliver waggled a finger, claiming in a sing song voice, "Do not be so sure about that!"

"We will have to see!"

"Tell me about it tomorrow!"

"Yes, there is always tomorrow, but for now, pardon me for arriving so late, but I have to get back before morning comes."

"Like-wise," Oliver rose to his feet, prompting his look alike to do the same. "Tomorrow, old chap."

"Old chap?!" Arthur rolled his eyes, but a closeted smirk found him as he turned for his forest of green trees. "You are absolutely mad!"

Lila whistled, "Oh yeah! You bet!"

Oliver declared, "Come now! It would have not been as fun with any other way!"


	54. Epilogue

_Author's Note- BY THE WAY...this is the last chapter, the epilogue._

* * *

An unseen force prompts the elderly man to snap back to the present. His aged eyes blink rapidly, clearing the moisture pooling in their teal depths from the onslaught of memories. A nervous smile ticks his cheeks, and he apologizes for losing himself so easily. He claims a lot had happened since then, but then lifts his distant gaze at the blushing skies, time hurrying along so quickly.

Behind his bench, and across the bustling evening crowd, an old apartment complex stands, the walls decorated with an array of flowers, splurges of color, and symbols of many differences coming together. The old man declares he could never be more proud. He raises his grand eyebrows, listening to quiet words upon his head, and grew bashful. He had forgotten something, muttering about a fifty year reunion. With a hunched lurch, he rises from his seat, and raises a hand to lightly swat at a disturbance in his hair.

Besides, he says he must get back to a bakery, before someone he lovingly dotes on eats his couch stuffing from over exaggerated hunger. As he bustled along the sidewalks, the orange sun strikes his once vibrant hair, and a hint of glitter flutters to the ground from the fairy on top of his head.

* * *

 _A.N.- PHEW. Okay, time to give thanks. Thanks to those who dive deep into the fanbase to stumble across this story, and know and tolerate enough to come this far to the end. Thanks to those who take those moments to leave funny reviews. Thanks to my beta reader (you know who you are, palbuddy), and dealing with me being difficult and weird. AND THANK SPELLCHECK. Where would I be without it?!_


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